


Wrapped Up (Around Your Finger)

by gingerink



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Carlos is Nando and Jense's son, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Dany and Seb are Christian and Toto's son, F/F, F/M, Family, Gen, M/M, Max is Dan and Seb's son, Mitch is Mark and Seb's son, Pascal is Nico and Lewis's son, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-04 10:08:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 55,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5330213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingerink/pseuds/gingerink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My own take on F1 Advent calendar. A collection of stories to spread the Christmas cheer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Christmas Present (Pascal/Mitch)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a slut for Christmas, so enjoy these fics! 
> 
> Warning for making out, I guess. Also, this ties in with my other fics - Mitch is Seb and Mark's son. Also, Pascal is Nico and Lewis's son but that doesn't matter too much in this.

Mitch had invited Pascal to his father’s Christmas party; everyone around them slowly becoming more and more intoxicated, the tree lights twinkling away. Mitch’s father’s arm curled around his other father, pressing a kiss to his red cheek as they both giggled. Mitch went brick red before he smiled at Pascal, their hands tangling together.  
Pascal bit his lip as Mitch tugs him in the direction of the stairs, his hand is warm, his fingers curled around Pascal’s own. Mitch has had a few beers but he’s not drunk by any means – his dark eyes are twinkling away, smirk curving over his lips.  
  
“Mitch-“ Pascal begins but Mitch doesn’t respond, continuing to tug Pascal up the stairs.  
  
“Your parents-“ Pascal says as Mitch pulls him into his bedroom.  
  
“They won’t even notice I’m gone and Dad will just end up snogging Papa-“ Mitch cuts in as he carries on tugging Pascal over to the bed, pressing their lips against one another, their hands still clasped.  
  
Pascal responds to his boyfriend’s lips, they’re dry against his own. Mitch’s free hand curls over Pascal’s hip tugging him nearer. Pascal feels himself tense against his boyfriend but Mitch continues to brush his lips over Pascal’s gently. Pascal feels his heart beat against his chest as Mitch guides him to the bed, their lips never leaving each other.  
Mitch presses Pascal against the sheets of his bed, his lips brushing against those of his boyfriends. Pascal whines underneath him; his tanned wrists caught in Mitch’s grasp, Mitch’s lips dance over Pascal’s, before they move down to lick over his slightly sweaty skin. Pascal gasps out, his lips parting ever so slightly as his back arches away from the sheets.  
  
“Oh god, Mitch, please,” Pascal whispers.  
  
Mitch smirks against his skin, his tongue flicking over the sinews in his neck, the salt bursting over his tongue. He begins to suck at the golden skin, smiling at the moans he elicits in German. He glances down at Pascal’s hands fisted into the bedsheets, his teeth caught on his lip as Mitch’s mouth traces over every inch of skin.  
  
“Mitch, stop it, your dad might hear us,” Pascal whispers, trying to wrench himself free, as though out of his daze. He pants, his golden skin shimmering with sweat, his hair slightly mussed.  
  
Mitch rips his lips away for a moment and grins at Pascal. “My dad won’t mind, Pascal. I once had sex with Carlos and he walked in-“  
  
Pascal pushes Mitch away from him, his eyes darkening with anger. He begins to pull the sheets around him, his movements jerky and irritable.  
  
“What’s the matter?” Mitch asks, moving to grab Pascal’s hand, his eyes softening and his voice gentle.  
  
“It’s fine, I know I’m a virgin and the sex with Carlos was better than any sex you would have with me but-“ Pascal says, looking down at the floor.  
  
“Hey,” Mitch whispers, grabbing hold of Pascal’s hand, his thumb brushing against the tanned fingers. “I don’t care if you’re a virgin, and Carlos is my history. I’m with you now and I don’t want you to feel that you have to have sex with me now,”  
  
“But-“  
  
“Pascal,” Mitch’s eyes are dark as they lock on Pascal’s. “It’s when you’re ready to have sex,”  
  
“But, what if you get bored?” Pascal says, his voice small.  
  
“I would never get bored of you,” Mitch whispers, brushing back Pascal’s hair from his face. The faint sounds of people laughing and the Christmas music playing downstairs breaks up the silence.  
  
“But, Mitch-“  
  
“Listen if you’re not ready, I understand completely, we can have a cuddle and a kiss.” Mitch says softly, his hand stays on Pascal’s face, tucking his hair back.  
  
“No, Mitch, I’m ready for this,” Pascal whispers back, his hand catching Mitch’s, brushing against his fingers.  
  
“If you’re sure,” Mitch says, his eyes locked on his boyfriends. “I want you to be certain.”  
  
“I am, Mitch. I want to be with you and I’m ready for it,” Pascal says, the Christmas lights dance lightly over his tanned skin.  
  
Mitch leans in and brushes his lips over Pascal’s once more. Pascal responds to the kisses, moaning against Mitch’s touch, Mitch’s fingers beginning to gently brush over his skin, exploring every inch. Pascal whines against his lips, twisting against his boyfriend’s touch. Mitch slowly guides Pascal into the bedsheets, glancing down at him carefully, his dark brown eyes locked on Pascal. Pascal glances up at Mitch before he moves to capture his lips once more. Mitch’s fingers dance down over Pascal’s body as their lips graze against each other.  
  
“Oh god, Mitch,” Pascal whispers as Mitch’s fingers close around the bottom of his t-shirt, he gasps against the Kiwi’s lips as his bare skin hits the cool air.  
  
Mitch smiles, pulling his lips away as he moves to throw Pascal’s t-shirt onto the floor. His own shirt follows. Pascal glances at his boyfriend’s muscled chest, his dark nipples standing out in contrast against his golden skin. He licks his lips, his eyes drinking in every detail of Mitch. His boyfriend’s smirk grows wider.  
  
“Like what you see?” Mitch asks.  
  
“Shut up,” Pascal mutters back, blush dancing across his face.  
  
Mitch grins widely as he pulls off his trousers, throwing them onto the floor. Mitch glances at Pascal once more, as though asking permission silently. Pascal nods, allowing Mitch to slowly slide off his trousers. Mitch’s eyes gloss over Pascal’s bare legs, his hands move gently to dance over the tanned skin.  
  
“You’re beautiful,” Mitch whispers, dipping down to brush his lips against Pascal’s neck.  
  
Pascal feels the curl of German dance past his tongue as he pushes his body up against Mitch, he feels Mitch’s cock, hard through the thin material of his shorts. He jolts ever so slightly, panic shooting through his chest.  
  
“Are you okay?” Mitch pauses, his lips pulling away from skin.  
  
“Yeah,” Pascal grounds out. “Just take it slow,”  
  
“Your fingers are shaking, ‘Cal,”  
  
Pascal glances down at the floor. Warm fingers tangle around his own. “Hey,” Mitch whispers, “We don’t have to,”  
  
“I know,” Pascal says softly, squeezing Mitch’s fingers tightly. “Can we just cuddle?”  
  
Mitch smiles gently as he pulls Pascal against his bare chest. Pascal melts against him – he sighs happily as Mitch’s hands wrap around his waist, pulling their bodies close together. Mitch’s hair brushes against Pascal’s nose, his hands are warm against Pascal’s skin.  
  
“You’re not angry are you?” Pascal says, tracing patterns on Mitch’s chest.  
  
“Why would I be angry, ‘Cal?”  
  
“Because I wanted to be ready to have sex with you, like everybody else was. I wanted it to be my Christmas present to you.”  
  
“I don’t want you to feel you have sex with me to make me happy, ‘Cal. Besides, I have a better Christmas present.”  
  
Pascal glances at Mitch, a trace of fear in his eyes. Mitch smiles and leans in, brushing his lips against Pascal’s for a moment. It’s barely a touch, a graze, lips sliding against each other. Pascal sighs against Mitch’s lips as the Kiwi’s fingers trace over his back. Mitch allows their lips to melt against each other, Pascal whines against his skin, a breath of air is pulled from his lips. Mitch smirks against Pascal’s lips as he deepens the kiss, sliding his tongue over, almost to tease.  
  
Mitch pulls the brunet closer, his tongue moving past Pascal’s lips and swirling inside his mouth, exploring every inch. Pascal tastes like traces of spearmint and coffee, his tongue moves to dance with Mitch’s – it’s warm and wet, his breath ghosting over Mitch’s lips as they kiss heatedly.  Mitch hears Pascal whisper his name over and over, the Christmas lights in the window illuminate his eyes – making them look almost golden. Pascal allows Mitch’s hands to explore his body, their tongues continue to brush against each other. Mitch’s fingers move over Pascal’s tanned hips; dancing down over the unblemished skin to graze over the German’s half hard cock. Pascal arches his back and a gasp leaves his kiss-swollen lips as Mitch’s fingers grasp his sensitive shaft, they sweep over the slit, beginning to leak pre-come.  
  
“Mitch-“ Pascal begins, his neck thrown back as Mitch begins to pump at his cock, the warmth spreading through his thighs. His fingernails grip the tanned skin of his boyfriend’s back.  
  
“Mitch?” Another voice cuts through their breathily moans and sighs. Mitch’s little brother, Max, stands in the doorway, his eyes wide.  
  
Mitch curses under his breath as he gently moves his hand away from Pascal, making the German whine in protest. “What’s wrong, Maxy?”  
  
“You’re naked,” Max says, matter of factly, his blue eyes wide in shock.  
  
“Yes? Is that a problem?” Mitch raises an eyebrow, Pascal is blushing next to him, pulling the covers around him tighter.  
  
“No, no, your Dad is looking for you, he wants you to have a Christmas drink with him-“ Max says, blush still staining his cheeks as he backs out of the room, the door closing behind him.  
  
“You should go see your dad,” Pascal says immediately. “He can’t find us like this,”  
  
“Relax, ‘Cal. He’s probably flirting with my dad to get a kiss under the mistletoe. Besides, I want to stay here with you,” Mitch says, smiling as his hands tighten around the German. Pascal relaxes back against the Kiwi’s warm chest, beginning to feel the tiredness dance over his eyelids. He soon falls asleep, nestled against Mitch’s naked chest. Mitch soon follows him into sleep, his hands slacken ever so slightly as his head drops down to rest atop of Pascal’s mussed dark hair.  


* * *

  
  
Mark chuckles at the couple still wrapped up in their bedsheets, sleeping peacefully in each other’s arms. He grins at the small content smile gracing his son’s lips, his hands wrapped tightly around Pascal.  
  
“Goodnight boys, Merry Christmas,” He whispers, closing the door quietly. The two boys sleep on unaware, the lights still gently flickering.


	2. I Didn't Knit This (My Mum Did)     (Lewis/Nico)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nico gives Lewis a Christmas to remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Number two, I've had a shit day and I'm tired of all the angsty cloud around Brocedes so have some teenage problematic boys!  
> Enjoy! :)

Lewis hasn’t been getting on with his father recently; they’ve been fighting over Lewis’s choice to race in a karting team with Nico – his father has never really liked Nico or his family – “they’re different to us, Lewis, you should stay away from them,” Lewis ignored his father’s words, Nico was nice enough, friendly, intelligent, funny and beautiful. His father was friendly, sometimes a little aloof but he always congratulated Lewis, cigarette in his mouth, his hands warm against Lewis’s shoulder.  
  
Nico had invited Lewis to stay over in Monaco for two weeks over Christmas – his father, Linda and Nic are away in Grenada, visiting family and his mother is also on holiday, leaving Lewis home alone. However, Sina overheard his plans when he and Nico were talking at the last race, their knees brushing against each other and invited him to spend Christmas with them. His father had agreed begrudgingly, dropping Lewis off at the airport and giving him a soft pat to the shoulder before he turned on his heel and left. Lewis bit his lip, his heart racing as he pulled his suitcase into the terminal.  
  
When Lewis had arrived in Monaco, Sina and Nico were waiting at the gate for him, they were wrapped up in woolly hats and scarves. Sina beams and her arms encase him in a soft, warm hug. He breathes in the familiar scent of her perfume – Chanel Number Five, of course – her hair brushes against his forehead. He sighs happily – she’s been a constant in his life for a long time.  
  
“You’re getting thin again, Lewis. I’m going to have to feed you up,” Sina scolds him gently.  
  
Lewis feels the blush spread to his cheeks as she pulls away, her brown eyes glancing over him.  
  
“Mum, you’re embarrassing him,” Nico cuts in, the grin is wide on his face. He envelops Lewis in a warm hug. Lewis sighs as Nico’s arms wrap themselves around his waist, he takes in the familiar scent of the blonde – vanilla, motor oil and the slightest smell of cologne – Nico’s soft blonde curls brush against Lewis’s nose as he feels the smile brush upon his face.  
  
“Missed you, Lew.” Nico whispers against his ear.  
  
“I missed you too, Nico.” Lewis whispers back, squeezing Nico a little tighter.  
  
Sina glances at her son and his best friend knowingly. She says nothing as they eventually break free of their hug and chatter excitedly as they walk to the car. Sina pretends not to notice Nico’s hands curling around Lewis’s as they sit in the back seat.

* * *

  
  
Sina watches Lewis’s eyes widen as he takes in the sight of the Rosberg house at Christmas; the landing is strewn with fairy lights. Nico laughs, smile curving over his lips as he tugs Lewis into the lounge. Lewis’s brown eyes focus on the large Christmas tree (real, of course,) twinkling with lights and baubles, the large presents wrapped in different shades of metallic paper carefully laid out underneath. The fire is roaring, there’s a stocking hung up on the mantelpiece, Nico’s name written on it in golden thread. Lewis notices the thin thread of smoke dancing through the air from the armchair by the fire. Keke is sitting in the armchair, the glow of the end of his cigar visible as he presses it to his lips.  
  
“Lewis,” Keke says, his voice is gruff. Lewis nods carefully, giving the older man a fake smile. He likes Keke; the man has always been warm to him off the track, always given him a small smile and a clap to the shoulder.  
  
“Hey,” Nico cuts through the silence, smiling at Lewis, their hands are still clasped together. “What do you think?”  
  
“It’s beautiful.” Lewis says and he’s telling the truth.  
  
His parents have always worked hard to ensure that he and Nic had a nice Christmas dinner and at least one nice present, their Christmas tree was fake, an old one that Lewis’s grandmother had given his dad, the baubles were a variety of different colours, the lights flickered on and off.  
Nico’s family tree was beautiful and pristine, the baubles were blue and gold, obviously carefully selected by Sina. Lewis sighs heavily, he glances at the tree and decides that if he gets into Formula One, that he will buy a beautiful tree like the one in Nico’s lounge.  
  
“C’mon, I promised Mum I’d help her make cookies,” Nico says, grinning as he pulls Lewis into the kitchen.

* * *

  
  
Lewis helps Sina make mince pies, Nico ends up brushing his flour covered fingers over Lewis’s cheeks (Sina looks on with a knowing smirk on her face.) before they end curled up on the couch with mugs of hot chocolate. Their thighs graze against one another, their fingers warmed by their hot mugs.  
  
“Okay, boys. It’s present time,” Sina claps her hands when the film they are watching is over.  
  
Lewis raises an eyebrow and remains silent.  
  
Nico glances at his best friend, before realisation streaks across his face. “Mum, Lewis opens his present on Christmas Day morning,” He says quietly.  
  
Lewis feels the blush dance over his cheeks as Sina’s brown eyes fix on him. “I’m sorry, I’m not bothered about you opening your presents early, Sina.”  
  
Sina cocks her head, smiling. “But you have presents to open too, Lewis.”  
  
Lewis feels his mouth go dry. “What?”  
  
“You have presents to open with us, Lewis. You didn’t think we’d leave you out did you?”  
  
Lewis doesn’t say anything, he feels the blush spread down to his neck, tears prick the corners of his eyes as he looks away.  
  
“Mum, you’re embarrassing him,” Nico says, his fingers brush against Lewis’s, almost to comfort him.  
  
However, Sina smiles as she begins to hand out the presents sitting underneath the beautiful tree, they’re all carefully wrapped with metallic paper. Lewis bites his lip watching Sina hand one to Nico, dark green with a large red bow, before she hands a smaller gift in gold and blue to Keke. She pauses for a moment before she hands a medium sized package to Lewis. Lewis glances at her for a moment.  
  
“Is this for me?”  
  
Sina grins widely, “Of course it is,”  
  
“You shouldn’t have, Sina.” Lewis looks down at the floor.  
  
“You’re family, Lewis.” Sina says softly as she presses the present into his hands. He glances down at the shiny red paper, the silver bow artfully tied around it. He glances at the label.  
  
_Merry Christmas Lewis, from Keke and Sina_  
  
He blinks back tears as he carefully begins to open the package. A teal coloured knitted jumper rolls out of the shiny red paper. Lewis holds it up to inspect it; it’s thick and clearly knitted by hand. There’s a large L stitched into the front in white wool.  
  
“The famous Rosberg jumpers,” Nico says, laughter in his voice. He unwraps the package in his hands, a bright red jumper with a black N knitted into the front rolls out of the paper.  
  
“Mum, I said no more Ferrari red!” Nico laughs. “It’s usually a teal one like the one you’ve got.” He says to Lewis, his green eyes dancing. “Mum must’ve seen you borrow mine that one time.”  
  
Lewis feels the tops of his ears turn red. “Thank you, Sina. It’s wonderful.”  
  
“It’s no bother, Lewis, Nico kept coming home saying you’d borrowed his jumpers so I thought I’d make you one of your own.” Sina replies, unwrapping her own gift of some expensive perfume.  
  
Lewis smiles and pulls the jumper over his head, mussing up his already messy black hair. Nico grins widely at the sight of Lewis in the teal knitted jumper.  
  
“Teal suits you,” He says quietly, there’s blush on his cheeks.  
  
“You suit every colour though, Rosberg,” Lewis fires back, grinning widely as Sina presses another parcel into his hands.

* * *

  
  
After the presents have been opened and another hot mug of cocoa has been drunk, Lewis ends up falling asleep against Nico’s shoulder, his breathing evening out. Nico glances down at his sleeping best friend and allows a small smile to tug over his lips. Lewis’s hair is soft against his bare shoulder, Lewis looks calm and relaxed against Nico’s side. Sina glances over at the sleeping Lewis and smiles.  
  
“He was tired,”  
  
Nico makes a noise of agreement.  
  
“I heard that he isn’t used to Christmases like ours,”  
  
“You know what Anthony is like, he spends all his money making sure he races, Sina. Lewis probably doesn’t get a big, luxurious Christmas like ours.” Keke cuts in.  
  
Sina looks at Lewis with sadness in her eyes. “I wish we could do more,”  
  
“We can’t, Sina, we can’t interfere too much.”  
  
Lewis sleeps on unaware. Sina glances at Nico. “He liked your jumper though. You should have told him that you knitted it.”  
  
“He wouldn’t have believed that I’d knitted it for him, Mum.” Nico says softly.  
  
“He would have,” Sina replies. “He’d have loved the fact that you made something for him, Nico and it took you hours to make it.”  
  
“Well, at least he’s wearing it,” Nico looks down at the still sleeping Lewis and smiles. Lewis seems to move closer to him, smile curving over his lips.

* * *

  
  
Nico ends up helping a groggy Lewis up to bed, he moves to push open the door of the guest room but Lewis clings to him tighter and shakes his head.  
  
“I want to stay with you,” Lewis slurs out against Nico’s skin.  
  
“But, Lewis, my parents-“  
  
“Nico, it’s Christmas,” Lewis whispers out, his brown eyes fixing on Nico. Nico feels the fight leave his body as he moves Lewis towards his own bedroom. He drops the Brit onto his bed and moves to get out of his own jumper and jeans. Nico slips under the covers in nothing but his boxer shorts, shivering a little at the cool sheets against his bare skin. Lewis is still clothed in the teal jumper.  
  
“You should take that off, Lew.”  
  
“But you made it for me,” Lewis whispers, his eyes slightly unfocused. “I want to wear it forever.”  
  
“How did you know that?” Nico asks.  
  
“Your mum told me, also, I saw your knitting stuff at karting once. It’s beautiful, thank you for knitting it for me.”  
  
“It was worth it, you were always stealing mine so-“  
  
“Thank you, Nico.” Lewis whispers, his eyes don’t leave Nico’s. He moves closer to Nico, their legs brushing against each other. Nico feels the ghost of Lewis’s breath against his cheek before Lewis leans in and presses their lips together. It’s a dry and chaste kiss, their lips barely touch before Lewis pulls away.  
  
“We shouldn’t,” Lewis whispers. “Your parents are next door, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”  
  
“Stop talking,” Nico replies, capturing Lewis’s lips once more in a kiss. Their lips press against each other, their bodies mould to one another. Lewis stares into Nico’s eyes as he brushes back long blonde hair.  
  
“Merry Christmas, Lewis.” Nico whispers, his voice hoarse as he moves in for another kiss.  
  
“Merry Christmas, Nico,” Lewis says against his lips.  
  
The knitted jumper soon finds its way onto the floor, tossed there by Nico’s hands exploring Lewis’s bare skin.


	3. You Promised (Webber Family)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian promised Mark that he would be there for Mitch. He was never good at promises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of sad sort of story, I'm sorry. Takes place in my universe where Mitch is Mark's son with Sebastian, but they have split up and Mark raised Mitch on his own.
> 
> For Emma's prompt: Seb leaving Mark and Mitch alone on Christmas morning because he'd rather be with Daniel and Mark has to have Christmas day alone with just Mitch and pretend he isn't heart broken.  
> Enjoy! :)

Mark remembers that Christmas Eve, the one before Sebastian decided that he’d had enough of family life. Sebastian had smiled; his blue eyes falling on his son, the son that Mark had finally allowed him to see after months of bitter custody battles. The snow is swirling around outside; dusting against the windowpanes. The fire is crackling away in the lounge; Mitch is sitting on the rug, colouring in what looks like a picture of a Red Bull from the random splashes of red, purple and blue. Mark watches his son, the fire gently playing off the side of his face, off his brown curls – their messiness clearly inherited from Sebastian.  
  
Sebastian is sitting on the couch; pressed against Mark, his head is leaning against his shoulder, the messy brown curls tickle the bare skin of Mark’s arm. Sebastian is grasping Mark’s fingers gently, his thumb stroking over Mark’s tanned skin. The television is on the background; the music is playing softly, the smell of mince pies hovering in the air. Mark glances at Sebastian; at the smile gently brushing over his face.  
  
“What are you smiling about?” Sebastian says, his blue eyes shining, his smile soft.  
  
“You,” Mark whispers, leaning in and brushing his lips against Sebastian’s. It’s soft, it’s gentle, it only lasts for a moment, Sebastian’s breath ghosting over Mark’s chapped lips. Sebastian pulls away quickly, his eyes holding only a trace of surprise, his fingers still brushed against Mark’s.  
  
Mark doesn’t say anything, he knows why Sebastian is really here. Their relationship ended a while ago, when Sebastian walked out a week after Mitch was born. Sebastian had showed off his boyfriend, Daniel, a few months later. Mark has to pretend that it doesn’t sting – Sebastian dating another Australian – Sebastian ignoring his own son; Mitch doesn’t ask about his daddy at first, he’s too young to understand. But he begins going to nursery; he looks at Mark and he wonders, he asks why he only has one parent. Mark tells him his other daddy went away, he doesn’t tell his son how far; that he’s driving the other Red Bull.  
Mitch still doesn’t know; he knows about Uncle Seb, he doesn’t know that Mark kept him away, kept him safe, safe from breaking his son’s heart, like Sebastian had broken his own.  
  
Mark smiles, he pretends like it doesn’t hurt, that the sting of rejection doesn’t leave a sour taste. Sebastian keeps his hand wrapped around Mark’s, his head brushing against Mark’s shoulder. Mark bites back the words that want to slip from his tongue. He glances at Mitch still humming under his breath, colouring in the Red Bull carefully. The fire still crackles, the snow still swirls over the windowpanes, but the magic seems to have disappeared. Mark feels cold, like Sebastian is going to leave any minute. He promised to be there on Christmas morning, to watch Mitch open his presents. Mark wonders if he’ll be there in the morning. He glances over at the Christmas tree, real of course, glittering with tiny fairy lights, at the roaring fire, at the ridiculous Christmas jumper Sebastian is wearing.  
  
“Daddy, look!” Mitch says. Mark notices Sebastian’s eyes flicker up at the name.  Mitch waves his picture around.  
  
“It’s beautiful, Mitchy.”  
  
“It’s a Red Bull like yours and Uncle Sebs,”  
  
Mitch ends up curled in between his parents on the couch after the hot chocolate. He sucks on his thumb, his chest rising and falling as his breaths softly fall against Mark. Mark and Sebastian continue to watch the television, their hands still lazily tangled together, their son fast asleep between them.  
Sebastian ends up carrying Mitch up to bed. Mark tries to avert his eyes as Sebastian gently gathers up Mitch in his arms, brushing a light kiss to the dark curls as he carefully climbs the stairs. He tucks Mitch into bed, the five year old still sleeps soundly through the gentle kiss that Sebastian brushes against his forehead.  
  
“Goodnight, my little Kiwi.” Sebastian whispers.  
  
Mark moves forward and kneels at the side of Mitch’s bed. He gentle brushes back Mitch’s curls and presses a kiss to Mitch’s head. “I love you, my little Champion.”  
  
Sebastian ends up slipping into the bed with Mark. Mark tries to give him space, moves to the far corner of the bed. However, during the night, their feet tangle together. It’s a habit.  
  


* * *

  
  
However, in the morning, Mitch bounces on the bed, screaming at the top of his lungs about Santa visiting. Mark fixes his bleary eyes on the alarm clock at the side of his bed. The green digits say 06:00AM. It’s still dark outside; but Mark immediately feels the cold sheets on the opposite side of the bed and his heart sinks. He promised, he promised that he wouldn’t let Mitch down.  
  
Mitch cocks his head. “Where is Uncle Seb, Daddy?”  
  
“He had to go home and see Uncle Dan, Mitchy.” Mark says, trying to keep his voice even.  
  
“Does that mean Christmas is cancelled?” Mitch asks, his lip wobbles.  
  
“Never, my little Champion. Only if you don’t mind it’s just the two of us?”  
  
Mitch snuggles closer to Mark, smile brushing over the corners of his lips. “Of course not, Daddy.” Mark presses a kiss to his son’s head, unable to keep the smile from his lips. Sebastian may be gone from their lives, but they always have each other.  



	4. Baby Please Come Home (Christian/Toto)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toto waits for Christian to come home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry I missed a story out last night, I fell asleep before I could post it. I know this story poses some resemblance to princessrosbergs, but I can assure you that I'm not trying to copy her; Emma is actually one of my best friends and its creepy we wrote similar fics.   
> Enjoy!

Toto glances out of the window of their apartment; the snow is swirling around, dancing against the windowpanes. He rocks baby Dany against his chest, tucking in the folds of the Red Bull blanket around Dany’s legs, which are kicking out as he gurgles. Toto glances down at his son, at the mop of messy brown curls – clearly inherited from his father – at the fist jammed in the tiny babies mouth.  The lights on the Christmas tree twinkle gently in the dim light, Dany looks up at his father, gurgling around his tiny fist. His phone remains silent – he’s called his husband several times over the last few hours but with no reply.   
  
Toto sings softly to Dany, rocking his son gently back and forth, smiling as the baby’s hazel eyes – his own eyes – begin to slide shut. Toto glances back out of the window, the ice is beginning to draw patterns across the window panes. Toto shivers slightly – he’s only in his pyjamas, blanket tucked around him and the now sleeping Dany. The work is packed away, all the paperwork is locked away, the turkey is wrapped up in foil ready to be basted tomorrow morning, the presents shine brightly in their coloured paper from underneath the tree. The Christmas card that Sebastian drew for himself and Christian has pride of place in the centre of the mantelpiece. Toto glances at his son’s scribbles for a moment before he glances at his phone once more. The screen remains empty.   
  
“Daddy?”   
  
Toto jerks slightly, glancing down at Dany with worry in his eyes but the baby continues sleeping, his breath light against Toto’s hand. His head whips up to see his seven year old son standing in the doorway. Sebastian is clutching onto his toy koala, rubbing his blue eyes with his knuckles. He’s wearing his Red Bull pyjamas, his white blonde hair is mussed, a mass of untidy curls.   
  
“What’s wrong my little Champion?” Toto asks, his voice soft.   
  
“Where is Daddy? Why isn’t he home yet, Papa?” Sebastian says, rubbing his eyes.   
  
“He’s on his way, Champion. He’s just popped into Uncle Fernandos.”  
  
“But Papa, we need him to be home. Otherwise, Santa won’t visit and give him any presents.” Sebastian’s bottom lip wobbles.   
  
Toto shifts the sleeping baby Dany slightly before he beckons his older son forward. Sebastian immediately climbs up onto the sofa and curls up against Toto’s side, still clutching his toy koala. He glances over at his sleeping baby brother.   
  
“Will Santa remember to bring Dany some new toys?” Sebastian asks, his big blue eyes staring at his father.   
  
“Of course,” Toto replies, smiling warmly as he thinks about the gifts tucked away in his and Christian’s wardrobe, all carefully chosen and wrapped up ready for Sebastian to open on Christmas morning. (Sebastian will no doubt open Dany’s presents as the baby waves his fists in the air, gurgling.) Toto glances down at his son, his eyelids falling shut, his hair still mussed. Toto feels his own eyelids fall closed, the warmth of his sons, their gentle breathing lulling him into sleep.  
  


* * *

  
  
He feels his eyes prise open at the sound of the door gently opening. He hears the soft curse that passes his husband’s lips, the light stomping of his snow covered shoes on the mat. Toto glances at the clock, it’s just after nine in the evening, the window is covered in small snowflakes. Christian moves slowly into the lounge, shaking the snow from his shoulders. He smiles gently at Toto, his arms wrapped around a sleeping baby Dany, Sebastian tucked in at his side, sleeping soundly.   
  
“Merry Christmas Toto-“  
  
“Don’t,” Toto says as gently as he can. Sebastian stirs against him. “You can’t just walk in here and expect everything to be normal.”   
  
“I’m sorry,” Christian whispers. “I ended up in the office with Dietrich until late. I almost missed my flight.”  
  
“You almost missed Dany’s first Christmas, almost missed watching Sebastian open his presents,” Toto hisses, shifting Dany slightly.   
  
“And I’m so sorry, honey, I didn’t mean to. I promise, my phone is going off until Boxing Day at least. I want to spend time with you, Sebastian and Dany.” His eyes dance over to the mantelpiece, locking on the card on the mantelpiece.   
  
“Sebastian drew it tonight after he’d had his supper. He said it was me, you, him and Dany.”  
  
Christian smiles as he glances at the sleeping blonde boy before he moves over to the mantelpiece. He glances over the two larger figures both with dark hair, one of them holding a blue bundle, the other holding the hand of a smaller stick figure with blonde hair and blue eyes.  “It’s beautiful.”  
  
Toto sniffs, nodding his head slightly. “He wanted to give it to you himself,”  
  
“I know,” Christian whispers, worrying his lip. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for him,”  
  
“Like the time you missed his football match, Christian? Or the time you almost missed Dany’s birth?” Toto fails to keep the venom out of his voice.   
  
“Torger-“  
  
“No, Christian. I’m not going to just sit here and listen to your bullshit anymore-“  
  
“Daddy?” A familiar voice cuts through the tension. Toto freezes; Sebastian is awake, rubbing his eyes ever so slightly. His blue eyes land on Christian and his mouth bursts into a wide smile.   
  
“Daddy, you’re home,”   
  
He pulls himself off the couch and away from Toto, clinging to Christian’s legs. Christian slowly places a hand on Sebastian’s head, ruffling the blonde curls. Sebastian sighs happily, pressing his nose against Christian’s trousers.    
  
“I missed you and I know Papa did too, you missed me having a bath with Dany,”  
  
“Did I?” Christian says, smiling down at his young son. “I promise I won’t miss it next time.”  
  
“You promise?” Sebastian’s eyes bore into Christians.   
  
“I promise, Sebastian.” Christian says, his voice is soft. He smiles as his young son extends his pinky finger out to seal the promise. “Now, aren’t you supposed to be in bed young man?”  
  
“I can’t sleep Daddy,” Sebastian whines, clutching his koala tightly.   
  
Christian bites his lip and glances at Toto. “I could make you some hot milk, if Papa agrees?”  
  
Sebastian barely has to glance at his father before Toto is nodding his head in agreement. Christian scoops Sebastian into his arms and presses a kiss to his temple before he moves into the kitchen to make the hot milk. Sebastian chatters in his arms, talking about the night and what he thinks Santa will bring him.   
  
Sebastian ends up curled up against Christian half an hour later, his hot milk drunk, his eyelids slowly closing, his breathing evening out as he begins to fall into a dream against his father’s chest. Christian glances down at Sebastian and smiles. There’s the brush of fingers against his own.   
  
“I’m sorry,” Toto whispers. His thumb rubs gently over Christian’s fingers.   
  
“I’m sorry too, I’m sorry I missed our first Christmas Eve together as a family.” Christian whispers back, his eyes gently ghost over Dany before they lock on the brown eyes he fell in love with.   
  
“I love you,”   
  
“I love you too,” Their lips meet for a moment, just barely brush against each other, their fingers remain wound around each other for a second before they part. They eventually carry their sleeping sons to their rooms, they watch Sebastian sleep for a moment before they go to their own room. They fall into bed together, their lips crush together, their skin ignited as though on fire. Christian glances at Toto, feels the sweat twisting around his curls.   
  
“Merry Christmas, love.”  
  



	5. Getting Cosy (Sebastian/Daniel)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian and Daniel get cosy by the fire on Christmas eve with hot chocolate and each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Emma.  
> Warnings of blowjobs and getting intimate tbh.  
> Enjoy!

Dan is stretched out in front of the fire, reading his novel when he hears the gentle knock at the door. It’s barely audible, almost hesitant – he presses his glasses back up onto his face and places his novel down on the coffee table before he moves over to the door. He glances at the Christmas tree behind him, the lights are twinkling away, the baubles are shining in the dim light – he thinks back to a few weeks ago when he and Sebastian laughed as they carefully hung the lights on the tree. Dan had ended up pressed against the rug, Sebastian’s lips on his, their kisses becoming heated as Dan whined against Sebastian’s skin, the German’s fingers exploring every inch of tanned skin. However, Sebastian was gone – the space next to Dan on the couch seemed to stretch out for miles. They had argued about Mitch again; about Sebastian accepting the little boy into their lives.  
  
“Start been a father, Seb!” Dan had yelled at Sebastian, the smile wiped away from his face.  
  
Sebastian’s blue eyes had narrowed, “Stop interfering when he’s not even your son, Daniel,” Sebastian had sneered, his face twisting with anger.  
  
“He might not be my son, but I’m fighting for you to see him. Step up and start being a father to your son, Seb,”  
  
“Fuck you Daniel,” Sebastian had snarled, the door slammed shut behind him. Dan had glanced at the half finished tree, numbness clawing at his chest as he glanced at the closed door and back at the tree, the lights continued to twinkle. With a heavy heart, Dan had finished putting the decorations on the tree, trying to ignore the tears that had run down his cheeks.  
  
Dan opens the door. Sebastian stands before him, looking solemn. There’s snow on the shoulders of his tailored black coat, smaller snowflakes clinging to his mussed blonde hair. The dark blue scarf that Dan had bought for Sebastian back when they were teenagers was draped around the blonde’s neck.  
  
“Daniel,” Sebastian whispers, his breath ghosting into a puff in front of him.   
  
Dan is frozen to the spot, his brown eyes locked on Seb. He knows he should close the door, lock Sebastian out of his life, but he knows he never will. The German has his name stamped all over Dan’s heart, it will always be there.  
  
“You should close the door on me, you should tell me to fuck off,” Sebastian utters.  
  
“Give me a reason not to,” Dan says, hating how weak his voice sounds.  
  
“I’m sorry, Dan. I shouldn’t have said those things to you, you’re right. I should want to be a part of Mitch’s life and I’ve been taking out the stress of the season on you…I shouldn’t have and I’m sorry. I felt awful when I left,” Sebastian says, his voice even. Another snowflake lands on his lips. Dan wants to lick it off.

“You shouldn’t have, but I forgive you,” Dan says shortly.  
  
Sebastian looks surprised at Dan’s response. “That’s it? You’re not going to fight for my apology?”  
  
Dan sighs heavily. “Life’s too short to be angry with you, Sebastian. It’s Christmas and I’m tired, I don’t want to be angry at you anymore,”  
  
Sebastian nods in acceptance. “I want to say I’m sorry again. I’m sorry for hurting you, I always seem to say the wrong thing and-“  
  
“Seb,” Dan whispers, reaching out to grasp Sebastian’s cold fingers. “Stop talking,”  
  
Sebastian opens his mouth and closes it again, Dan’s warm fingers curling around his own pale ones. He glances up at warm brown eyes, the eyes he fell in love with when he was nineteen. Dan licks his lips as he pulls Sebastian inside his apartment.  


* * *

  
  
Sebastian pulls off his boots, the snow spilling over onto the slate grey tiles. Dan immediately pulls him into the lounge, allowing the blonde to sink into the soft leather couch. The tall Australian disappears off into the kitchen, leaving Sebastian on the couch, his blue eyes falling on the Christmas tree still glinting in the dim light.  
  
“Dan?” Sebastian asks, biting his lip. Dan doesn’t respond.  
  
Sebastian glances around the room, his eyes fall on the photo of himself and Daniel in the middle of the mantelpiece – seventeen year old Dan, messy brown hair curling around his face, braces shining on the teeth, glancing at nineteen year Sebastian, his mussed blonde hair in waves. Sebastian remembers that day – it was the day he looked at Dan and saw more than just a friend. He pulls his eyes away, calls Dan’s name once more.  
  
“I’m coming,” Dan says, appearing at the doorway, carrying two mugs of hot chocolate. Sebastian feels his heart beat hard against his chest at the sight of the Australian – his dark hair mussed, his dark brown eyes sparkling behind his thick framed glasses. He exhales heavily as Dan sinks into the couch cushions next to him, pressing the hot mug into his hands.  
  
“Hot chocolate, just the way you like it,” Dan says softly.  
  
“Remember when that picture was taken?” Sebastian says, glancing over at the mantelpiece.  
  
“I remember, when I had braces that kept catching on your tongue, and you had bad hair. It seems like so long ago,”  
  
“Well, you were practically a kid at the time, Dan,”  
  
Dan sips on his hot chocolate, his lips shining with the thick liquid. “And you were a fully grown man? I don’t think so, Seb. Remember when you told me that you liked me?”  
  
“And you thought I was kidding,” Sebastian replies, smile curving over his lips.  
  
“Well, you know, you were Sebastian Vettel, the kid who kicked everyone’s ass in karting and you were nineteen and everyone fancied you and said you were fucking Mark, and I was seventeen and wearing braces and had terrible hair,”  
  
“And look at you, now,” Sebastian grins, putting his mug down on the coffee table. “You’re beautiful,”  
  
Dan glances away, blushing. Sebastian’s fingers curl around Dan’s mug of hot chocolate, he pulls it out of his boyfriend’s hands before he sets it next to his own. His hand moves to gently cup Daniel’s face, the callouses of his fingers brush over the dark stubble. Dan glances at him, his glasses slightly askew, his tongue moves to dart across his lips, wetting them. Sebastian glances at Dan’s lips, his eyes – so close he can see the golden flecks reflected back in the brown orbs.  
  
Dan leans in and catches Sebastian’s lips with his own. Sebastian allows the Australian’s soft lips to graze over his own, his warm hands still clasped against Dan’s stubble. Dan’s arms move to close around his waist, pulling the blonde closer to him. Sebastian whines against Dan’s lips, his hands moving to curl up in Dan’s curls, tugging on the dark strands, eliciting a deep moan from the Australian.  
  
“Seb, fuck,” Dan whispers against pale skin as their lips brush against each other, Seb’s tongue brushing over Dan’s lips as though to ask for permission. Dan opens his mouth, allowing Sebastian’s tongue to trace the corners of his mouth. Sebastian deepens the kiss, twisting his fist into Dan’s hair making the Australian gasp out. Dan leans into the cushions of the couch as Sebastian presses him further against the material, his hips rubbing up against Dan’s, their lips connected, Dan’s hands brushing over his ass.  
  
“Daniel,” Sebastian says thickly between kisses as he grinds against the Australian, Dan whines against him as he feels Sebastian’s hardening cock through his thin jeans.  
  
“Missed you,” Dan whispers, his lips moving to drag along the expanse of Sebastian’s pale neck. “Need you now,” He pants, the salt tracing over his lips.   
  
Sebastian smiles for a moment before it’s replaced with a sharp gasp, the exhale of breath is sudden as Dan bites down on the expanse of pale neck, sucking on the sensitive skin. Dan’s name is drawn from Sebastian’s lips, almost like a prayer, as Dan’s tongue traces over the sore skin afterwards as though to sooth it. Dan smiles against Sebastian’s skin, moving to brush their lips together for just a second before they pull apart.  
  
Sebastian watches Dan’s dark eyes glance over the mark he’s just left, before the Australian leans in again, his lips brush lower, dancing over the hollow of Sebastian’s neck as his fingers fumble at Sebastian’s jeans, pulling down the zipper. Sebastian hisses as Daniel’s warm fingers brush against the thin cotton of his boxers.  
  
“Daniel,” is a brief exhale over his lips.  
  
Dan ignores the whisper, his tongue gently mapping over Sebastian’s pale skin at the curve of his neck, his fingers wrapping around Sebastian’s cock through his boxers tugging on it lazily. Sebastian allows his head to fall back against the couch cushions, Dan’s mouth still on his neck as the Australian slowly begins to build up his strokes, tugging on his cock, the friction of his cotton thin boxers over his weeping cock sends waves of warmth through his lower thighs.  
  
“Did you miss me, Sebby? Did you miss me touching you like this?” Dan says, his voice is low and guttural, his eyes are dark as he pulls his lips away, keeping his hands on Sebastian’s cock.   
  
Sebastian shifts slightly, trying to pull his boxers away from his weeping cock – he can feel the pre-come soaking through the thin material, his cock hardening with every stroke, every flick of Dan’s fingers.  
  
“No, let me,” Dan says, his voice husky, as he slowly pushes down Sebastian’s boxer shorts, his warm fingers curling around the German’s cock, they become sticky with pre-come. Sebastian purrs underneath him, thrusting his hips up against Dan’s fist, the dark mark on his neck stark against his pale skin.  
  
“Oh, Daniel, I missed this,” He whispers, a groan pushing past his kiss-swollen lips.  
  
“Did you miss me touching you,” Dan whispers, his fingers dancing over Sebastian’s shaft, gently brushing the material aside.   
  
He moves forward, pushing Sebastian’s underwear away. Daniel’s name slips out of Sebastian’s lips, his head thrown back as Dan’s mouth closes around his cock enveloping in a familiar wet, warmth.  
  
“Dan,” Sebastian moans out as Dan’s tongue runs over the sensitive shaft of his cock, taking him into his mouth completely.   
  
Dan doesn’t say anything as his mouth closes over Sebastian’s balls, sucking on the sensitive skin slowly, deliberately. Sebastian twists, thrusting his hips up against Dan, his fingers moving to tangle into Dan’s hair. Dan hisses against Sebastian’s cock as the German’s fingers fist against his dark curls, he feels the heat curl inside his belly as his tongue probes over Sebastian’s cock, eliciting a low groan from the blonde.   
  
“Dan, please,” Sebastian repeats, Dan glances at the German, his head is thrown back, his eyes are closed, his lips are parted – he’s open and waiting for Dan, trusting almost – Dan hums around his cock, his tongue slides over the glistening shaft, the salt bursts over his tongue as Sebastian takes a shaky exhale.   
  
Dan allows his tongue to dance over the slit of Sebastian’s cock, the come is sticky against the corner of his mouth. Sebastian exhales heavily, his teeth catching on his lip. Dan continues to move his tongue over Sebastian’s cock, moving to lick up the drops of come that were leaking from the slit. They were salty against his tongue, but Sebastian’s half-lidded eyes, his swollen lips parted, Dan’s name leaving his lips. Dan whines against Sebastian’s cock as Sebastian’s fingers tug on his curls, pulling him closer. Dan hisses as he feels his own cock rub against the thin material of his trousers.  
  
Sebastian thrusts up into Dan’s mouth, Dan’s tongue dancing over his cock, his teeth grazing gently over Sebastian, moans drawing themselves from pale pink lips. Dan smirks around Sebastian’s cock as Sebastian’s thrusts become more and more animated and sloppy – Dan knows Sebastian is close to coming, he can feel the familiar stickiness slick over his cock still rubbing against his trousers.  
  
Sebastian arches his back, his mouth falling open as Dan’s tongue works his way over his sensitive skin, warmth spreading over his thighs, he can feel his orgasm building, Dan’s name falling from his lips as he finally lets go, his seed filling Dan’s mouth – it’s hot, wet and sticky. Dan smiles around Sebastian’s cock, the salty taste of Sebastian’s semen washing over his tongue. He manages to swallow Sebastian’s come, it’s hot and sticky – before he eventually moves away from Sebastian, wiping his mouth clean. Sebastian pants for a moment, composing himself, his cock slowly beginning to soften.   
He leans forward, his mouth still swollen from Dan’s kisses, capturing the Australian’s once more, he paws at Dan’s hardened cock, smirking at the low sounds that Dan makes against him. Sebastian pushes his hands into Dan’s trousers, past the thin cotton of his underwear, Dan whines against the blonde as Sebastian lazily begins to get the Australian off. Sebastian’s hands are cold against his skin, the callouses rub, but Dan melts against Sebastian, sighs drawing themselves from his mouth. Dan arches his back eventually, his orgasm flowing through his body, Sebastian’s name as his lips as he comes all over Sebastian’s fingers.  
  
Sebastian wipes the sticky semen onto the bedcovers and pulls a sated Daniel closer to him  - Dan allows himself to curl up against Sebastian’s soft chest. The snow continues to fall outside their bedroom window, it dances up on the windowpanes.  
  
“Merry Christmas, Daniel,”  
  
“Best present ever,” Daniel replies with a sleepy smile. “Love you, Sebby,”  
  
Dan hears the “I love you too,” before his brown eyes close and he succumbs to sleep. Sebastian glances down at his boyfriend – fast asleep against him and smiles. There’s no place he’d rather be.  



	6. Last Christmas (Keke/Sina)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keke tells Pascal the story of how he and Sina met.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is by far the biggest fic I have written for this project, and it's a heterosexual one, what even? Warnings for abuse.
> 
> This is a gift for Lis (ssilverarrowss) who craves a bit of Keke/Sina. Parts are based around Last Christmas by Wham.  
> Enjoy!

**2014  
  
**_“_ _Isoisä.” Pascal climbs into Keke’s lap one evening just before Christmas. He’s just finished helping Sina put up the Christmas tree, there’s glitter in his thick, dark hair from a few of the Christmas decorations. Keke glances down at his grandson, at the dark skin and dark eyes, clearly inherited from his father. He can see traces of himself and Sina in Pascal – he’s inherited her almond shaped eyes, the same eyes she passed onto Nico.  
  
”Yes, Pascal?” Keke asks, allowing the little boy to rest against his chest, his hair brushing Keke’s shirt.  
  
”Daddy told me the story of how he and Vati fell in love. Could you tell me how you and __Großmutter fell in love?“  
__  
Keke raises an eyebrow at his grandson’s request. “Well, we were friends for a long time like your Vati and daddy were. We’d been friends since we were young, I began to fall in love with her around Christmas, we were in Finland…”_ ** _  
  
_ 1970**  
  
Keke feels his mouth drop open as he sees Sina standing outside the log cabin; she looks as beautiful as ever, her blonde hair curling around her ears, the deep red scarf that Keke gave her for Christmas last year wrapped artfully around her neck. Keke exhales deeply as he watches her, the snowflakes already catching on her fur coat, curving over her blonde curls. He feels the smile curve over his lips as his eyes lock on her; but it soon fades when he spots the man standing next to her, their hands entwined.  
  
“Keke!” She says, pulling her gloved hand away from the other man, running over to Keke as he steps out of the car. He feels her press against him; her arms wrapping around his shoulders, standing on tiptoe, the ghost of her breath against his cheek. He gently presses her towards him; his hands on the small of her back as he takes in the smell of her perfume, the lingering vanilla.  
  
“I missed you, Rosberg,” She says, smiling.  
  
“It’s been a while hasn’t it Gletzmann?” he teases back lightly, blue-green eyes lock onto brown. The clearing of a throat breaks through their stare. Sina breaks away from Keke, like his skin has burnt her. Keke’s eyes fall on the blonde man standing at the side, arms folded, scowl on his face.  
  
“Oh, Keke, this is my boyfriend, Michael.”  
  
Keke raises an eyebrow, Sina hadn’t mentioned a boyfriend in any of her recent phone calls. He glances at Michael, who glares back at him. Keke pastes on his best smile as he steps forward, extending his hand out.  
  
“Nice to meet you, Michael. I’m Sina’s friend, Keke.”  
  
Michael grunts and returns the handshake. Sina beams at the pair of them.

* * *

  
  
Keke feels his glance slide away from his book over to where Sina and Carmen sit on the wooden floor sorting through the boxes of decorations. The fire is crackling away; it lights up Sina’s hair golden. Sina is humming a Christmas song under her breath as she hunts through the various boxes, her hair falling away from the loose plait that she’d put it in. Keke tries not to look at her; tries to focus on his crime novel.  
  
“Keke, Keke,” He snaps out of his thoughts; Sina is standing in front of him with her hands on her hips. “You have to decorate the tree with me.”  
  
“I think you and Carmen have it covered,” Keke says, his eyes dropping down to his book. “I’d only put the baubles in the wrong place.”  
  
“Keijo Erik Rosberg,” Sina hisses under her breath, her eyes turning dark. “Stop being a Scrooge and help me decorate the Christmas tree.”  
  
Keke sighs heavily, he can feel his resolve crumbling. He’d do anything for Sina and she knows it. He bookmarks the page he was on with another deep exhale. She grins at him, before taking his hand and tugging him over to where the boxes are. Keke tries not to enjoy the sensation of her small hand in his, her fingers are warm against his skin. They’re gone as quickly as they came; Keke sits on the floor and digs through the boxes, trying not to smile at the woman next to him.  
  
They’re decorating the tree carefully; Keke is winding the tinsel through the branches. His hand slips and the tinsel falls from his hand. He bends down to retrieve it and comes face to face with a wide eyed Sina; her brown eyes fall over his lips, their eyes lock for a moment, time seems to stop as Keke glances at the Christmas lights gently playing off Sina’s face. However, Sina hands him the tinsel and smiles, the moment is broken. Keke hurriedly moves away, trying to hide the blush on his cheeks as he repositions the tinsel on the branches.  
  
Keke is working on picking out the baubles – the girls have agreed on white and blue baubles (“We have a Finn staying here and we’re in Finland.” Sina had declared and Keke felt a surge of pride at her words.) He’s rummaging in the box, glancing up at the tree when he feels a warm hand brush against his own. He turns to look and comes face to face with Sina once more. The blush sweeps over her cheeks, under the collar of her Christmas jumper.  
  
“Sorry,” She says, glancing away.  
  
Her hand lingers for a moment before she moves it away. Neither of them notice the blonde sitting in the corner, his blue eyes filled with anger focused on them.

* * *

  
  
Keke is about to drift off to sleep when he hears a quiet knock at his door. He raises an eyebrow, moving to pull on an old t-shirt before he opens the door.  
  
“Sina?” He says, eyes widening at the sight of the blonde in the entrance of his doorway. However, she does not smile back at him. She glances at him with frightened brown eyes, there’s blood on her lip and her nightshirt is torn.  
  
“Keke-“ She says, her voice slightly hoarse. “I didn’t know where else to go.”  
  
“What happened?” Keke says, trying to keep his voice gentle. However, he doesn’t get to question Sina any further as she lets out a choked sob and moves forward, pressing her face against his chest. Keke glances down at her, his arms gently moving to clasp her lower back. He grits his teeth as she sobs against him, his t-shirt becoming wet with her tears. He gently rubs his hands over her back as he steps backwards, leading her into the room. The door gently closes behind them as Keke allows Sina to cry on him. He moves to brush his hand through her blonde hair.  
  
“What happened, Sina?” He asks again, softly.  
  
“Michael thought I was cheating on him,” Sina replies, her voice still wet against his shirt.  
  
“With you,” She continues, glancing up at Keke, her eyes filled with tears. “I said there was nothing, but I didn’t believe me, he, he-“  
  
“Did he-“ Keke says, trying to remain calm.  
  
Sina shakes her head violently. “No, he just roughed me up a little-“  
  
“I’ll kill him,” Keke vows, his hand gently rubbing circles on Sina’s back. How dare this man lay a hand on her?  
  
“Keke, please,” Her brown eyes lock on him. “Please don’t. Just, let me stay with you tonight.”  
  
“I’ll take care of you,” Keke says softly.  
  
He gently leads Sina over to the bed. She slips in between the sheets on one side, her hair fanning out over the pillow like a halo. Keke slips in beside her; careful to keep his distance from her. However, Sina moves closer to him, presses herself against his chest. He tentatively wraps an arm around her protectively, pressing her closer to him, feeling the ghost of her breath against his bare chest.  
  
“He’ll never hurt you again, you’re safe here.” Keke says, his voice soft as he traces patterns on Sina’s back.  
  
His blue-green eyes lock on Sina’s brown ones, they stare at each other for a moment; Keke moves his hand to gently brush away a lock of Sina’s blonde hair from her face. Sina’s eyes never leave Keke. Keke moves forward, his breath brushing against Sina’s face. He glances at her, as though to ask permission before their lips gently brush against each other, almost tentative. Keke pulls away immediately, blush dancing over his cheeks.  
  
“I’m sorry,”  
  
“It’s okay,” Sina replies, her pupils wide. She looks exhausted, dark smudges under her eyes. Keke can’t help but find her beautiful. She falls asleep a few seconds later against him, her breathing evens out, her hand lax against his chest. He glances down at her, brushes his lips against her forehead, his arms remain protectively around her.  
  
They don’t talk of it, the next day. They eat their breakfast and smile at each other. Sina returns to Michael, Keke watches them curled up on the couch. He ignores Michael’s victorious smirk and focuses on the Christmas tree lights glinting away.  


* * *

  
  
**2014**  
  
_“But_ _Isoisä, you kissed each other and she still went back to the other man?” Pascal cocks his hand and looks puzzled.  
  
”Love works in mysterious ways, Pascal. We didn’t see each other until the next year and your grandmother had broken up with the other man by then.”  
  
_**  
1971**  
  
“Keke!” Sina says gleefully, wrapping her arms around Keke’s chest. He smiles lightly, his arms moving around to cup her waist, he breathes in the scent of her – the vanilla perfume still tickles his nostrils.  
  
“Sina, it’s been a while. I missed you,” Keke whispers against her cheek. Her hands tighten around him.  
  
“I know,” She replies, her brown eyes sparkling. “How have you been? Have you been busy?”  
  
“I’m fine, where is Michael?”  
  
“Split up months ago. Anyone in your life?”  
  
A throat clearing cuts through their quiet conversation. A blonde haired woman in a fur coat stands before them, smoking a cigarette. There’s snow sticking to the shoulders of her coat, her hair is perfectly coiffed, shining in the dim light.  
  
“Who is this?” Sina pulls away from Keke, raising an eyebrow in confusion.  
  
“Oh, darling,” The woman drawls, smoke billowing around her from her cigarette. “Didn’t you tell anyone we’re married?”  
  
“Married?” Sina whispers, glancing between the woman and Keke with hurt in her brown eyes.  
  
“Sina, this is my…wife, Pirjo,” Keke says, sheepishly, biting his lip.  
  
“Your wife?” Sina repeats, his face is pale. “When did you get married, Keke?” Her brown eyes lock on his hand, on the gold band on his finger.  
  
“In April,” Keke whispers. “I was going to tell you but…well, Pirjo insisted that nobody came to the wedding, she wanted something small,”  
  
“Oh,” Sina says, pasting on her fake smile. “When did you two meet? You didn’t bring her last year, Keke,”  
  
“We met at my parent’s annual New Years party, Pirjo is a family friend, and well, since then we’ve been inseparable.” Keke says, his voice soft.  
  
“He proposed to me on Valentines Day, it was so romantic,” Pirjo says, smile wide on her face. Sina gives her a smile in return but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.  
  
“Well, I’m happy for you. Hope you can pull yourself away from your new wife for long enough to help me decorate the Christmas tree,” Sina laughs as she pulls herself away. Keke watches her leave, his teeth caught between his lip.  


* * *

  
  
“I bought you a present,” Keke says, his voice soft as he presses the small wrapped box into Sina’s hand. The midnight blue wrapping paper is beautiful, finished off with a metallic white bow.  
  
“Oh, Keke, you shouldn’t have,” She says in a scolding tone.  
  
“Open it,” Keke says, the smile curving over his lips. Sina raises an eyebrow as she gently pulls apart the bow and tears the paper open. There’s a black box inside. She opens it carefully. A beautiful diamond necklace rests on the black velvet. It’s tasteful and elegant.  
  
“I can’t accept this Keke, it’s too much,” Sina protests, as she tries to press the box back into Keke’s hands.  
  
“Nothing is too much for you, Sina.” Keke says gently. “You deserve only the best, don’t you like it?”  
  
Sina purses her lips as she glances at the necklace. “It’s beautiful, but it’s too much, what will Pirjo say-“  
  
Keke ignores her comment, smiling widely. “May I?” He asks.  
  
She nods as he takes the necklace in his hands. She shivers slightly as his calloused fingers brush against the sensitive skin of her neck. The necklace is cool against her neck, the diamond shines brightly in the light. Sina finds herself glancing at the necklace, at Keke’s fingers brushing over her neck.  
  
“It’s beautiful, it suits you.” Keke says, smile still wide.  
  
“Keke?” Pirjo’s voice cuts through the silence. Keke’s wife is standing in the doorway, betrayal sinking into her blue eyes as she takes in the sight of her husband and Sina, the diamond necklace glints in the light, Keke’s fingers on her bare collarbone.  


* * *

  
  
**2014**  
  
  
_“You gave her a necklace and she fell in love with you?” Pascal interrupts, his brown eyes wide.  
  
“Not quite, little one,” Keke smiles. “Now, where was I?”_  
  
  
**1971  
  
** “Fuck you, Keijo!” Sina pauses at the closed bedroom door, she hears something shatter against the wall and winces. She turns on her heel and begins to move away when she hears her name been spat from angry lips.  
  
“How long have you been fucking Sina, Keijo?” Sina hears Pirjo’s angry voice.  
  
“There’s nothing going on between Sina and I, Pirjo. You’re imagining things,”  
  
“Oh, like I’m imagining that diamond necklace you gave her for Christmas?”  
  
“Pirjo, she’s my best friend, I always buy her something nice for Christmas. I bought her diamond earrings the year before,”  
  
“The year before, you weren’t married to me, Keijo,” Pirjo says, hurt. “Do you have feelings for her?”  
  
Keke is silent.  
  
“Well, I guess I have my answer,” Pirjo says, defeated.  
  
  
**2014**  
  
_“Wait, so somebody else could have been my_ _Großmutter_? _You almost fell in love with the wrong person?” Pascal asks, his brown eyes wide.  
  
“I didn’t fall in love with the wrong person, little one. I just was young and a bit silly, I thought that by trying to be in love with somebody else, I would stop loving your __Großmutter.“  
  
“Did it work?“ Pascal says, sucking on his thumb.  
  
“No, Pascal, I was still in love as ever.“  
  
_

* * *

  
  
  
**1974  
  
** Keke is surprised that Sina accepts his request to join him for Christmas at the ski lodge. It’s been three years since he’s seen her, since she left without a word the next morning, the diamond necklace still in the box with a note that said one word; sorry. Keke had kept in his suitcase, ready to give it back to Sina.  
  
He’s changed a lot in the three years they’ve been apart, he’s changed jobs but he still karts on the weekend and Pirjo is gone; the only evidence that she was once there is the thin line of pale skin on Keke’s ring finger, where his wedding ring used to be. They hadn’t been good for a while, not since that Christmas three years again. They tried to rekindle the flame, but to no avail. Pirjo marches out of Keke’s life with her suitcase, leaving her wedding ring on the kitchen table.    
  
Sina is standing outside the lodge in her cream coat when Keke pulls up in his truck. He sighs in relief as the scent of vanilla traces over his nostrils, her arms warm around his midsection.  
  
“I missed you,” He whispers against her blonde curls.  
  
“Missed you too.” She pulls her head away slightly to glance at the truck. “Where is Pirjo?”  
  
“Gone,” Keke says, his voice almost a whisper. “She walked out nine months ago, we got a divorce in May. She said she couldn’t stay married to a man who belonged to someone else,”  
  
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” She whispers back, her lips brush over his cheek. He ignores the heat that spreads over his face. Her gloved fingers curl over his as she guides him into the lodge.  


* * *

  
  
Keke is leaning over the side of the balcony, the snowflakes brush against the side of his face. He doesn’t shiver, he’s used to the cold – he glances down at the Christmas tree standing in the garden, Sina had already strewn colourful fairy lights around it, they twinkle silently, the branches full of freshly fallen snow.  
  
“Keke?” Sina’s voice calls out. She appears on the balcony next to him, she’s dressed in her pyjamas, her blonde hair is loose, her brown eyes worried.  
  
“Sorry, I was just thinking about things,” Keke says quietly.  
  
“About Pirjo?” Sina asks after a moment.  
  
“I used to think about her, I used to wonder why I didn’t love her as much as she loved me. I didn’t want a divorce, I wanted to make things work between us,” Keke whispers, his voice cracking on the last word.  
  
Sina places her hand over Keke’s and rubs it gently. “I know you did, I’m sorry that it didn’t work out between you two.”  
  
“I know, I’m sorry too,” Keke says.  
  
“For what?”  
  
“For falling in love with you. I was still in love with you when I was getting married to Pirjo. I’m sorry Sina. I’m sorry for everything,”  
  
“Keke-“ Sina whispers, her eyes wide. “Don’t say things like that,”  
  
“But it’s true, Sina. I’m in love with you, I have been since we were young.” Keke admits, his blue eyes gazing at her, locking her in place.  
  
“Keke-“  
  
“And it’s okay if you don’t feel the same, Sina. I’m just tired of lying to myself. I love you and I’m sorry for ruining your Christmas,” Keke looks at his feet and moves to walk away. However, Sina’s warm fingers catch his wrist.  
  
“Wait,” She whispers. “You didn’t let me finish…I love you too, Keke. It hurt to see you married, I was resigned to giving you up, I’m sorry too,”  
  
“You never had to give me up, Sina, I was always yours. I’m sorry it took me so long to-“  
  
“Stop talking,” Sina whispers,  smile curving on her face as she leans forward and brushes their lips together.  
  
They kiss desperately, Keke’s fingers curl into Sina’s hair, Sina melts against him – she whines against his lips, warmth spreading through their bodies as their lips stay connected, their bodies move in unison against each other. They kiss as though they have nothing left, the snow still falling gently around them, Keke pulls Sina closer to him, his lips pressing against hers, his hands curled in her jumper as their lips brush over each other. The kiss seems to last for a lifetime; Sina tucked against Keke, their lips connected, sticking to each other, Sina’s lipstick painting the side of Keke’s mouth.  
  
They eventually pull apart and stare at each other; brown eyes stare into blue.  
  
“Why didn’t we do that years ago? That was-“ Keke begins, his lips swollen from kisses.  
  
“Amazing,” Sina smirks, her fingers curling with his.

  
**2015**  
  
_“But didn’t you get married,_ _Isoisä? Or didn’t_ _Großmutter say yes_ _?” Pascal asks, he’s beginning to get a little sleepy, Keke can see his eyes beginning to darken, a yawn hidden behind his dark skinned hand. He’s so much like Nico in his mannerisms.  
__  
“We got married eventually, we dated first for a few years. My parents, your great grandfather and mother got angry with me and said that I was putting it off, that time was running out. We moved in together after that and then a year or two later, I asked your_ _Großmutter_ _to marry me,”  
  
“And what did she say?”  
  
“What do you think she said, little one?”  
  
_

* * *

_  
  
_**1979** _  
  
_ Keke fiddles with the box in his pocket and looks at himself in the mirror. He smoothes down his unruly dark blonde hair before checking the pocket of his trousers once more. He pulls out the box and opens it up again, the silver banded engagement ring sits on the teal coloured velvet. The six diamonds glint in the dim light. He glances at the Christmas tree in their bedroom, at the window where the snow is gently falling outside, and exhales deeply before he closes the box again.  
  
Sina is standing by the Christmas tree in the lounge – it’s fresh, Keke chopped it down himself earlier that morning and brought it into the lodge as per tradition – Sina is standing amongst piles and piles of boxes of Christmas decorations and lights. She’s almost finished decorating the tree- the lights are already twinkling, artfully placed onto the branches by Sina’s careful hands. The blonde places the last few baubles on the tree, standing back to admire her handiwork. She notices Keke leaning in the doorframe and smiles widely.  
  
“Keke,” She says, as he steps forward to press a quick kiss against her lips.  
  
“You look troubled, what’s the matter?” Sina asks as he pulls his lips away from hers. Her brown eyes search his face, her features taut with worry.  
  
Keke grabs hold of Sina’s hand and strokes over the back of it with his calloused fingers. “Gesine, you know how we’ve been together a long time,”  
  
“Keke, what is this-“ The words die on Sina’s lips as Keke drops down on one knee before her.  
  
Keke reaches into his trouser pocket and holds out the box to Sina.  
  
Sina’s mouth is wide open in shock, her face pale as her eyes fall upon the ring glinting softly in the light. “Oh god, Keke-“  
  
“Gesine Gletzmann-Dengel, will you marry me?” Keke asks her, his voice soft.  
  
Sina bites her lip for a moment, her eyes resting on the giant diamonds on the silver band. “Oh god, Keke, what are you…yes, yes, of course I’ll marry you,” She says.  
  
Keke grins widely as he carefully slides the ring onto her shaking fingers. He stands up and envelopes her in a hug, his arms moving around her waist, he feels the wetness against his chest and glances down at her, worry crossing his feature.  
  
“Sina, are you-“ He brushes back her hair from her face.  
  
“I’m so happy, you are going to be my husband,” Sina sobs, holding onto Keke’s shirt. Keke kisses the top of her forehead and smiles at the Christmas tree glinting away.  
  
  
  
**2014**  
  
_“So you and_ _Großmutter_ _got married?”  
  
“We got married a few years later, it was around Halloween. I think we got tired of planning everything and we just decided it would be fun to get married, we ended up getting married in Mauritius on a beach.”  
  
Pascal glances up at the photo in the centre of the mantelpiece; the one on the left is of his daddies at their own wedding in matching black suits – Vati is kissing Daddy on the cheek, Daddy’s hand wrapped around Vati’s waist, showing off his silver wedding ring. The one on the right is of his Vati holding a baby Pascal, his daddy hovering over them protectively.  
  
However, the photo in the middle of the mantelpiece is older. The colour has faded ever so slightly, but it shows his __Isoisä_ _and his_ _Großmutter_ _standing on a beach, his_ _Isoisä_ _in a tailored black suit, looking at his_ _Großmutter_ _, she is wearing_ _in a stunning white lace dress, she grins widely at the camera.  
  
“And then what happened?”  
  
“Well…”_  
**  
**

* * *

**  
  
1984  
**  
Keke and Sina have just finished putting up the tree at the lodge, the snow has stopped falling, leaving everything in a thick white blanket. Keke glances over at the Christmas tree, all alight with lights, tinsel and shiny baubles. The Christmas songs are still piping out on the small radio.  
  
“Keke,” Sina grabs Keke’s hand, her brown eyes lock on his blue ones. “We need to talk,”  
  
“What’s wrong?” Keke asks, panic immediately floods his chest.  
  
“I have to tell you something but-“ Sina begins but the words stop short as Keke clasps her hand gently in his own.  
  
“What’s the matter, Sina?”  
  
Sina doesn’t reply, she merely guides his hand down to rest over her stomach. Keke pauses for a moment, before he glances up at his wife and a huge grin spreads across his face.  
  
“You’re-?”  
  
“Yes,” Sina whispers. “I’m about three months gone. I was waiting for the perfect time to tell you-“  
  
“Sina,” Keke says, his hand still on her stomach. “I love you,” The tears begin to prick at the corners of his eyes, the world seems to stop – just them and their unborn baby inside their lodge, Christmas decorations draped around them, the Christmas tree lights seem to blink.  
  
“I love you too,” Sina says, Keke’s hand moving to close over hers. “What do you think of the name, Nico?”  
  
“I think if he’s anything like his mother, he’ll be perfect,” Keke whispers, brushing his lips against her own.  
  
  
**2014**  
  
_Keke finishes the story and glances down at his grandson who is curled up against his chest, fast asleep. His hair is slightly mussed and his brown eyes, his father’s eyes, are hidden by his dark eyelashes. Keke carefully scoops the small boy into his arms and begins to climb the stairs. He places Pascal into his bed, tucking the covers up around him.  
  
“_ _Hyvää yötä pikkuinen,_ _” Keke whispers, pressing a kiss to his grandson’s forehead.  
  
“I heard your story,” A familiar voice says softly behind Keke. “It was beautiful, almost like a fairytale.”  
  
“Well,” Keke turns and moves towards his wife, his arm curls around her and he presses a kiss to her lips. “You are my princess.”  
  
The couple watch their grandson sleep peacefully for a moment, before they close the door behind them._  
**  
  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hyvää yötä pikkuinen - goodnight little one in Finnish


	7. Cold (Roberto/Will)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story of Roberto and Will, or 5 times that Roberto was cold and Will warmed him up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is only my second fic with these two, but I had to include one in my advent because they are totally adorbs. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Roberto was used to warm weather; he was used to the Spanish sunshine beating down on his back, tanned skin, hot sand in between his toes, walking around in nothing but a pair of shorts and a thin t-shirt. However, since he moved to London, he couldn’t seem to stay warm.  He’s shivering in the motorhome; the heater is on full blast. Roberto curses under his breath, it’s December and he’s in London ready to meet his new teammate that he will be racing with for the following year.  
  
“Hey partner,” A strange accent pipes up through the silence.  
  
Roberto glances up and meets blue eyes and a wide smile. He’s no stranger to what Will Stevens looks like – he’s googled him a few times and Carlos has given him wide smiles and nudges when he sees the blush dance over Roberto’s cheeks. Roberto extends his hand out to Will’s – his fingers are warm against Roberto’s own and the smile intensifies, Will’s teeth are slightly crooked but his blue eyes seem to sparkle. Roberto feels something flutter inside his chest.  
  
“I’m Will, it’s nice to finally meet you, I’ve heard lots about you.”  
  
Roberto smiles back.  
  
(I’ve refreshed your Wikipedia page, a lot, and checked your Instagram a few times, he thinks.)  
  
Will’s fingers seem to linger on his own. Blush dances across his cheeks as Will realises and pulls his hand away. Roberto misses it and curls back into the couch.  
  
“Sorry, I didn’t know London was so cold,” Roberto says.  
  
Will smirks, “This is quite normal for this time of year, Robbie,”  
  
“Please don’t call me that, it sounds awful,” Roberto says, shaking his head.  
  
“I’ll have to give you another nickname then, Roberto is far too long,” Will smiles widely, he pulls off his green scarf and shrugs off his coat. Roberto glances at the Brit with a raised eyebrow.  
  
“What?” Will pauses, the beginnings of blush creeping up his neck.  
  
“How can you even think about taking your coat off? It’s freezing!” Roberto says, incredulous.  
  
Will says nothing in response as he throws his coat at Roberto. “Put that on, I can’t have my teammate getting ill before I have a chance to kick your arse,”  
  
Roberto glares at Will but he pulls on the Brit’s coat – it’s slightly tight around his shoulders but the warmth of Will still clings to it, Roberto buries himself into the material, the smell of Will’s cologne dances in his nostrils.  
  
Will watches him with a wide smile. Roberto feels warm for the first time since he moved to London.

* * *

  
  
They’re four races in and Roberto is still getting used to Will’s personality; the Brit has an amazing sense of humour and never fails to have Roberto in stitches. He fiddles around with his telemetry, glancing at the lap times he’s setting in the back of his garage. He glances over to Will’s side and spots the Brit, racing overalls tied around his waist, mirrored sunglasses on. He’s mouthing the words to some song on his headphones, his eyes closed. Roberto feels the smile spread across his face as he watches the Brit prepare himself for the race.  
  
He feels the shivers run through his body, shifting slightly in his chair. He can’t seem to get warm in Bahrain; it reminds him of London in a way, he thinks about his apartment by the Thames, huddled underneath all the blankets he owns, wishing for the Spanish sun to warm himself.  He hates the fact that the sweat keeps drying on his skin and making him feel even colder.  
  
He’s pulled out of his thoughts by warmth spreading over his shoulders. He glances to see a Manor hoodie, a familiar black one, draped over himself. He looks up into blue eyes and a small smile. Will is standing before him, his headphones are wrapped around his neck.  
  
“You looked cold,” Will says, biting his lip.  
  
“Thank you,” Roberto replies, he can feel the heat of the blush spreading over his neck. The fluttering in his chest returns. “You didn’t have to,”  
  
“Carlos mentioned you don’t like night races, because you get cold,”  
  
Roberto grits his teeth. “Oh, did he?” He makes a mental note to shove Carlos into Dany next time he sees his fellow Spaniard. “I’m not cold right now,”  
  
“Right, your lips aren’t blue at all, Roberto.” Will says, smiling.  
  
Roberto huffs and pulls Will’s hoodie further around himself, he can feel the warmth returning to his body.  
  
“You look adorable,” Will continues; he has the annoying smile on his face, the one that Roberto isn’t quite sure how to read.  
  
“Shut up, Stevens,” Roberto mutters.  
  
Will is called back to his own side of the garage and leaves with a smile on his face. Roberto begrudgingly wears Will’s hoodie and tries to ignore the fluttering sensation in his chest at the scent of Will’s aftershave curling in his nostrils once more.

* * *

  
  
They’re in Singapore when everything changes, they’ve had their summer break – Roberto ended up in Ibiza for two weeks with some other friends. Will texted him every day – he was in New York and ended up sending him photographs of himself stood in front of the Statue of Liberty.  
  
(Roberto, in return, sent him a photograph of his cocktail.)  
  
_No photograph of yourself wrapped up in your blanket?_   Will had texted back immediately.  
  
Roberto had sent a photograph of himself with his middle finger up, smiling.  
  
Will had sent a smiley face back in response.  
  
Singapore is colder than usual, Roberto shivers in the motorhome once more, the race is due to start in a few hours and he should be out having a run and preparing himself for it but he’s too cold. He sits in his running shorts and vest, shivering slightly in the cold air. He grits his teeth and thinks about all the warm places they’ve been to, Spain, Monaco, Malaysia – he shivers a little more in the freezing air, cursing the fact that he’d left his hoodie back at the hotel.  
  
Warmth curls over his fingers. Roberto pulls himself out of his thoughts and glances up into blue eyes. Will is smiling at him. Roberto blinks, confusion ghosting across his face, he looks up at his hands, finding a large mug filled with hot chocolate in it. The steam from the hot drink dances in the air.  
  
“You look like you needed it,” Will says, he’s worrying his teeth between his lips.  
  
“Thanks, Will,” Roberto says, and he means it.  
  
Will doesn’t say anything else, he just quirks his lips slightly before he leaves. Roberto watches him go before he takes a sip of the hot liquid – it’s sweet and milky against his tongue, it’s perfect. Roberto smiles, warmed by the drink cupped in his hands.

* * *

  
  
“Thanks for the drink,” Roberto says. Will glances up from where he’s leaning on the balcony. He doesn’t smile.

  
“It was no problem, just thought you looked cold,” Will’s gaze is fixed on the city, Singapore twinkles against the dark sky.  
  
“What’s wrong?” Roberto asks quietly.  
  
“Nothing,” Will replies, his voice tight.  
  
“Will-“  
  
“You know when people expect you to be something you’re not?” Will says, not allowing Roberto to answer. “I’m tired of pretending, Roberto. I’m tired of pretending to be something I’m not, pretending to like the things I like…” His voice cracks slightly.  
  
Roberto moves closer to Will, his tanned hand moves to brush over Will’s hands – they’re slightly warm, warmer than his own, the brush of skin sends flutters through Roberto’s chest once more. Brown eyes lock on blue. Roberto moves forward, pressing his lips against Will’s. The Brit melts into the kiss, their lips seem to stick against each other, chapped from the cold air. Will moans into the kiss, grasping Roberto’s t-shirt in his hand. Roberto’s lips brush over Will’s and he commits the sensation to memory. Will’s hands find themselves curling into Roberto’s dark curls and the Spaniard hisses against the Brit’s lips at the friction. They kiss for what seems like a lifetime in the cold air of Singapore, their attention on nothing but each other, their hands searching over each other’s bodies, grasping clothing, grasping hair, lips slide over each other.  
  
Will pulls away and pants heavily, staring at Roberto with wide eyes, full of fear.  
  
“What was that, Merhi?”  
  
Roberto opens his mouth and closes it again. He’s about to utter his apologies, but it’s too late. Will has gone, the balcony door swings in the light wind. Roberto brushes his fingers over his lips and sighs heavily, they still tingle from the Brit’s kiss.

* * *

  
  
Will doesn’t speak to him for the next few races; Roberto feels the dark blue gaze rest on him during race debrief, during their press conferences and their duties at Manor. But Will is cold towards him, the smile is gone, the jokes are gone. Roberto finds himself missing the Brit’s wide, crooked smile and the way he pronounces his name, the way his lips curve around the R, the way Will smiles at him even when he’s tired. Roberto ends up getting replaced for the last few races – it stings – it stings to see Will standing next to Alexander, to see Will smiling at the American and cracking jokes, his hands curving around the young man’s shoulder.  
  
Roberto ends up getting drunk at the end of season party, the other drivers are dotted around; Roberto has seen Lewis staring at Nico with pining in his eyes, he watches Alexander dance around the room, Will by his side grinning widely. Roberto takes another glass of champagne from a passing waiter and downs it in one. The numb feeling is beginning to loosen, the sense of dizziness washes over Roberto. He feels the smile curl over his lips as he continues to down the champagne – it’s bitter against the back of his throat.  
  
He can feel the buzzed feeling wash over him – colours seem to dance, voices flow around him. He feels warm hands at his shoulders, his arm tucked around a shoulder. He laughs and buries his head into a warm chest, a familiar smell dances around him. He glances up at Will’s worried face.  
  
“Think you’ve had a little too much to drink, Merhi,”  
  
Roberto doesn’t reply, he allows Will to take him away from the party, his head resting on the smaller man’s shoulder. Roberto feels himself be guided into soft sheets – probably the bed of the hotel they’re staying in.  
  
“I’m cold,” He whines.  
  
He hears Will sigh before he climbs into the bed with him. Roberto drifts off to sleep, his body slowly warmed up by the Brit watching over him.

* * *

  
  
It’s snowing at the moment, the white flakes smoothing against the window, Roberto watches them memorised from the balcony.  
  
“What are you looking at?” The voice of his boyfriend breaks through the silence.  
  
“We don’t have much snow in Spain,” Roberto replies, glancing at Will who is watching him with a huge smile on his face.  
  
“Are you cold, amorcito?”  Will asks, softly. He stands next to Roberto, watching his boyfriend lean over the side of the balcony.  
  
“No,” Roberto says, his voice barely audible over the busy traffic of London. “I’m fine,”  
  
“You’re shivering, Rob,” Will states with a slight smirk on his face.  
  
“I’m not,” Roberto whispers, glancing over the city – the Christmas lights are aglow, the streets are still full of life.   
  
Roberto shivers once more but tries to hide it.  Will smiles and pulls off his jacket, draping it over Roberto’s shoulders. Roberto relaxes, allowing the warmth of the jacket sweep over him.  
  
“Remember when we met?” Will asks softly.  
  
“Yeah…you gave me your coat.” Roberto replies, pushing Will’s jacket around himself.  
  
“Then I gave you my heart,” Will grins. Roberto rolls his eyes but he allows Will to move closer to him. Will presses a gentle kiss against his lips as they watch the snow fall around them.


	8. Waiting for You To Come Home (Home, Being my Arms) (Lewis/Nico)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nico has been waiting for Lewis to come back to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt, “I waited for you to come back to me.”
> 
> I'm not 100% happy with this but I wanted to post it. So I hope you enjoy, even if it leaves a bittersweet taste.

Nico is glancing at the Christmas tree, the lights twinkle gently. He remembers a few years ago when his parents used to dress the tree (real, of course,) he remembers the smile upon his face as he used to root through the boxes to find the shiniest, biggest baubles. He remembers his mom smiling away in her ugly Christmas jumper as his father lifted him up to place the angel on top of the tree. Those were the halcyon years, the years when he didn’t have to wait, when he only thought about karting, about the smudges of mud on his racing shoes.  
  
Christmas always seemed such a strange time to him, he remembers when the racing began to mean more to him, the year his father bought him his first kart. He remembers it shining under the pale sunlight, the black panels untouched. He had his hand run over the metal, felt it under his fingers. That was the first time he’d fallen in love. The second time was when he’d met dark brown eyes and a tooth gap, smudges of dirt on his hands as he grinned at Nico.  
  
“I’m Lewis Hamilton.”  
  
 It was around December in the off month that they had met for the first time, their fathers were already firm friends, tucked in a corner, pints of lager in their hands laughing away. Nico remembers the snowflakes caught on Lewis’s eyelashes, the beanie tugged over his dark curls, the smile curving over his lips. He remembers the familiar tugging in his chest – he doesn’t know what it is yet. He soon discovers the feeling of love, curving over his chest, seeping into his bones, his heart pounds when his eyes lock on Lewis’s.  
  
“I love you,” Lewis whispers against his lips, it’s summer – the sun is pounding down on them, the sweat clinging to the collars of their racing overalls.  
  
They’re fifteen, they’re young, their bodies are lanky and lithe, their kisses are sloppy, Lewis’s hand fists into Nico’s overalls. Nico gets lost in the moment, their bodies pressed against one another. However, it doesn’t last, Nico moves into Formula One, Lewis follows him. They grow up, they have to stop pressing each other against the tyre barrier, have to stop brushing their lips together.  
  


* * *

  
  
They part on Christmas Eve, there’s snowflakes sticking to Lewis’s lips. He’s a newly crowned champion, the youngest one ever, in only his second season. Nico hated him in that moment, he wondered when his time would come.  
  
“I’m sorry, Nico, I can’t do this anymore.”  
  
“I love you,” Nico says, as though it will make a difference.  
  
“I love you too, but I can’t do this. It’s not fair to you.” Lewis bites his lip.  
  
Nico wants to touch him, pull him close, to try and persuade him. However, Lewis walks away. Nico watches him leave with a heavy heart. He throws himself into his racing, focuses on the car, the wins, the track. It’s the only way he can win Lewis back, by being the best, making him take notice. The snow stops falling, the leaves grow back on the trees. Nico tries to forget Lewis, tries to ignore the silver McLaren at the front of the grid, tries to ignore the bright yellow helmet – like Senna – bobbing up and down in the cockpit.  
  


* * *

  
  
Nico sips from his beer bottle as he sits on the couch, eyeing the lights twinkling gently. It’s been a year since Lewis decided to end things between them. There’s a knock at the door, it’s sharp, almost hesitant. Nico raises an eyebrow as he places the bottle down on the table and moves to open the door.  
  
The sight before him takes his breath away. Lewis stands on the doorstep, black beanie pulled over his curls, the shoulders of his tailored black coat are covered with tiny snowflakes, they cling to his dark eyelashes, over the curve of his lips.  
  
“Nico,” Lewis whispers, his eyes locking on the blonde.  
  
“Lewis, it’s Christmas Eve, don’t you have somewhere to be?”  
  
“I wanted to be with you.”  
  
Nico exhales sharply. “I waited for you to come back to me.”  
  
“I’m sorry it’s taken me all this time to realise it, I was stupid to let you go, Nico. I didn’t know what I had back then.”  
  
Nico doesn’t say anything. Lewis’s brown eyes lock on him. “You should probably close the door on me. I deserve it, I don’t deserve you, but I wanted to tell you. It took me losing you to realise what we had together.”  
  
“You do deserve it,” Nico bites out. “Give me a good reason why I shouldn’t close the door on you right now.”  
  
“You should, Nico. You should cut me out of your life. I just want to tell you that I still love you-“ Lewis is cut off as Nico sharply slaps his face. Lewis staggers back a little, hissing in pain as he clutches his cheek, his eyes wide.  
  
“Don’t you dare,” Nico whispers, blinking away tears. “Don’t you dare say that to me, after everything I went through.”  
  
“I’m sorry, and I know that won’t be enough. But I truly am sorry, Nico, for hurting you.”  
  
“You broke my heart, Lewis.” Nico says, his voice cracks on the last word.  
  
“I know and I’m sorry. I was young, I was stupid and I know that is not an excuse. I shouldn’t have walked out on you, I’m not expecting you to welcome me in with open arms.”  
  
“You hurt me Lewis, I loved you, I still do, but you walked away, you let me think that we didn’t matter.”  
  
Lewis glances down at his feet, worrying his lip. “I know and that was the biggest mistake I ever made. I don’t expect you to forgive me. I just wanted to tell you how I felt…how I still feel.”  
  
Nico doesn’t say anything else.  
  
“I love you, I always have and I always will. I know it won’t change anything about this thing between us, if there is anything anymore. I just wanted you to know,” Lewis whispers, there’s tears shining in his eyes.  
  
“Why, why would you tell me that? Was it to hurt me, Lewis?”  
  
Lewis shakes his head. “No, I just wanted to tell you, then I could try to move on, like you have.”  
  
“I never moved on, Lewis. I just hid my feelings for you, it was the only thing I could do.”  
  
“You could have talked to me, I would have listened to you.” Lewis whispers, his eyes locked on Nico.  
  
“Would you? You didn’t even look at me, Lewis.” Nico snaps back, his eyes dark.  
  
“I didn’t trust myself to be near you, I thought if I stayed away, you would forget about me and how you felt about me.” A snowflake lands on Lewis’s lip. Nico tries not to look at it.  
  
“I would never forget about you.” Nico says, his eyes not leaving Lewis’s lips.  
  
“I wanted you to.” Lewis admits.  
  
“Never,” Nico whispers. “I don’t want to, no matter how much you hurt me.”  
  
“I’m sorry-“ Lewis begins but Nico shakes his head.  
  
“No more words,” He whispers, reaching out for Lewis’s hand.  
  
Their fingers tangle together, gently, with hesitation. Lewis bites his lip as brown eyes lock on green. Their hands remain linked, lightly, as though they’re not sure if they will be separated, as Nico pulls Lewis inside. He sweeps the snow off the shoulders of Lewis’s coat. It’s beginning to melt; as is the ice around their hearts. Nico glances at the Christmas tree, at the twinkling lights, and squeezes Lewis’s hand a little more tightly. The snow continues to fall outside. Inside, two hearts begin to heal, they have some way to go, but it’s a start.  



	9. Bobble Hats (Carlos/Dany)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carlos wants to give Dany a special present.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on a prompt for Emma; Carlos wants to give Dany a homemade present, so knits him a Russian bobble hat. 
> 
> Enjoy guys! :)

Carlos had known Dany since they were young, since they were both in karts and had their baby teeth. He remembers the first time he met the Russian; it was around Christmas, Dany was wearing a bright purple knitted hat pulled over his short, dark hair and a gap in his two front teeth. Carlos remembers the bright matching scarf that Dany had wrapped around his neck, he remembers the warm hazel-green eyes and the wide smile, the gloved hand that clasped his own.  
  
“Hello, I’m Dany, my daddy is friends with your daddy,” Dany says, smiling widely at Carlos. Carlos smiles back.  
  
“I’m Carlos, I like your hat,” Carlos feels the blush creep over his cheeks. His father had always taught him to be polite.  
  
“Thanks, my big brother knitted it for me,” Dany grins ever wider.  Dany’s big brother, it turns out, is a name very famous on the karting circuits. Carlos watches wide eyed as Sebastian Vettel runs over to Dany and squeezes him into a tight hug. He steps away after a moment and readjusts the hat and scarf back into position.  
  
“Seb-“ Dany bats away his brother’s hands, glowering ever so slightly.  
  
“Hey squirt, I’m just making sure that you’re warm, last time you gave me a cold and I couldn’t compete in the last race of the season,” Sebastian chides, before he smiles at Carlos. “Hello,”  
  
“Seb, this is my new friend, Carlos.”  
  
Sebastian grins at Carlos. Carlos glances back at Dany and feels the blush dance over the back of his neck.

* * *

  
  
Dany had lost the famous purple hat last year when he was driving for Toro Rosso; he doesn’t remember where he lost it, he just remembers glancing in his suitcase for the familiar purple colour amongst his other clothes. He’d ended up pulling out all of his clothes and even checking in between all of his shirts, but to no avail. Carlos had found him curled on the floor, his face tucked into his knees, sobbing into his jeans.  
  
“Dany?” Carlos whispers, feeling his heart break at the sight of the Russian curled up on the floor, tears falling down his cheeks. “What’s wrong?”  
  
“My hat…the one that Seb knitted for me, it’s gone,” Dany whispers, turning his gaze to Carlos. Carlos bites his lip at the hurt in Dany’s eyes, he wants nothing more than to brush his lips against his best friends lips, to take away the pain that is radiating across his face.  
  
“Oh, Dany,” Carlos whispers back, he sits on the floor next to Dany. The Russian immediately folds himself against the Spaniard, almost melting against him. Carlos glances down at his best friend with worry in his brown eyes as Dany’s head falls against his shoulder. He brushes back the messy dark hair from Dany’s face.  
  
“We’ll find it, Dany, I promise you I’ll do everything I can to help,” Carlos says. Dany nods against his shoulder, Carlos feels the wetness through his t-shirt and bites his lip.  
  
He allows Dany to lean against him for a little while longer, his fingers curling in Dany’s hair. Dany glances at Carlos, almost in confusion, and leans in slightly, capturing Carlos’s lips in a kiss. Carlos freezes for a moment as Dany’s soft, warm lips brush over his own before he kisses back, his fingers fisting into Dany’s hair. Dany whines against his skin, his lips sliding over Carlos’s, gently, almost like a feather touch. The kiss is over as quickly as it begins, Carlos pulls away gently, glancing at Dany.  
  
“We shouldn’t have done that-“  
  
“I’m sorry, I thought-“ Dany glances at the floor.  
  
“Hey,” Carlos whispers, twining their hands together. “It’s okay, I kind of liked it,”  
  
“Me too,” Dany replies, his voice low, his eyes are full of fear. “I wanted to do it for a while,”  
  
“So did I,” Carlos admits. 

* * *

  
  
They don’t talk about it after that – Dany is busy at Toro Rosso, hoping to prove himself, to get his name engraved in people’s minds, to be seen as someone other than Sebastian Vettel’s brother. Carlos ends up spending some time in Spain, warming his toes in the sand, letting his native language wash over him once more, he tries to forget hazel-green eyes and a wide smile. It’s Mitch of all people who give him the idea – they’re sat on the beach, their feet in the waves, letting the Spanish sun beat down on their faces.  
  
“I have no idea what to get Pascal for Christmas, man,” Mitch says, glancing at Carlos through his mirrored sunglasses.  
  
“It’s July, Mitch, Christmas is months away,”  
  
“Yeah but I want it to be special, you know? It’s our first Christmas together.” Mitch glances at Carlos carefully. “What did you get Dany?”  
  
“Why is what I got Dany important?” Carlos raises an eyebrow.  
  
“Because he’s your boyfriend-“ Mitch pauses, glancing at the confusion spreading across Carlos’s face. “You two aren’t dating?”  
  
“He’s not my boyfriend, we’re not dating.”  
  
“Could have fooled me,” Mitch smirks. “So anyway, what do you plan on getting the boy you’re clearly in love with?”  
  
Carlos feels the blush dance over his cheeks, “I’m not discussing this with you, Evans.”  
  
“Well, it’s not a dildo is it? Sex toys? Handcuffs? Is Dany into kinky stuff?” Mitch waggles his eyebrows. “Something a little more vanilla, chocolate perhaps? A nice scarf?”  
  
Carlos suddenly thinks about scarves, about the purple one, about the purple hat that Dany treasured, the one that Seb had hand-knitted for him.  
  
“You’re a genius, Evans,” He says, smiling at Mitch. He’s already thinking about paying a visit to the wool shop in Camden when break is over.

* * *

  
  
Carlos curses in Spanish as he drops another stitch. The wool he’s picked is perfect – it’s a beautiful deep sea green sort of colour, it will compliment Dany’s eyes perfectly – if Carlos could knit neatly and not drop stitches. He holds up the half-finished hat – he’d gone out and bought the wool when he’d got back from break, he’d watched a bunch of Youtube videos on the plane journey home to educate himself but his stitching still aren’t tight enough and there’s a few holes in the hat where Carlos has dropped a stitch or two. He curses under his breath once more at his handiwork and tosses it back into the basket he was using to keep his knitting materials and wonders if he should just buy Dany the things he’s got saved in his Amazon basket. He imagines the look on Dany’s face when he unwraps the present, he wonders if the Russian will smile – he knows that Dany appreciates homemade presents – he loved the special Spanish cookies that Carlos had baked him last year.  
  
“How’s the hat going, Sainz?” Mitch breezes in, Pascal behind him rolling his eyes.  
  
“Awful, I should just give it up and just buy him that remote control car he wanted instead,” Carlos says, glancing at the basket.  
  
Mitch opens it and glances at the hat, holding it up to inspect it. “It’s not that bad, Carlos, you dropped a few stitches, so what?”  
  
“Mitch is right, Carlos, it looks beautiful, Dany will love it,” Pascal says, smiling at the hat.  
  
“It’s not good enough,” Carlos mutters, glancing at the sea-green wool and his knitting needles. “It needs to be perfect for Dany,”  
  
“Carlos, you could give Dany a rubbish bag and he’d love the fact that it’s from you,” Mitch says, rolling his eyes. He carefully places the hat back in the basket. “Are you making a bobble for the top?”  
  
“Well, Sebastian’s hat had a bobble on it,” Carlos says softly, hoping that Mitch won’t pull out the instructions he’d printed off on how to correctly make a bobble.

* * *

  
  
“What are you doing?” The voice makes Carlos drop his knitting needles, he glowers at the almost finished bobble hat and glances up into the eyes of Dany’s brother, Sebastian.  
  
“Nothing,” Carlos says, his eyes wide as he tries to hide the knitting from the dark blue eyes.  
  
“Carlos, you don’t have to hide it from me, I know who you’re spending all this time knitting for.”  
  
Carlos feels the blush dance over his cheeks. “You don’t mind?”  
  
“Of course not, he’d love anything you got him, Carlos. He’s special to you.”  
  
Carlos glances down at his shoes. “Please don’t tell him?”  
  
“I won’t, by the way, if you need help attaching the bobble, you know where I am,” Sebastian says, smiling.  
  
“In Dan’s hotel room,”  
  
Sebastian turns on his heel and leaves, smirking as he hears the needles clicking against each other once more.

* * *

  
  
Carlos is wrestling the finished bobble hat (complete with green bobble attached with Sebastian’s help) into some shiny blue wrapping paper. He’s surrounded by offcuts of the paper and bits of sellotape, his hair is falling free of the gel.  
  
“Carlitos?” A familiar voice calls out. Carlos curses under his breath in Spanish as he moves to hide the present, but Dany’s sharp eyes have already spotted the bobble.  
  
“What is that?” He asks, confusion spreading across his face.  
  
“Nothing…it’s for Mitch,” Carlos says, smoothing the paper out but the bobble stubbornly sticks out.  
  
“You’re a bad liar, Chili. Who is the present for?”  
  
Carlos bites his lip, he knows Dany will keep pressing for answers. “It’s for you, it was supposed to be a surprise but…” He trails off, watching Dany’s face drop in disappointment. He pulls the bobble hat out of the package and holds it out to Dany.  
  
“It’s not much but I know how much Sebastian’s meant to you…”  
  
Dany doesn’t say anything as he carefully takes the hat from Carlos’s fingers, the warmth of his fingertips brushes against Carlos’s, making his heart beat faster. “You hate it…it’s rubbish, I know,” Carlos babbles, watching the hazel-green eyes fall over the few holes in the hat where he’d dropped a stitch.  
  
“I should have just bought you that remote control car from-“ Carlos doesn’t finish as Dany leans in and silences him with a kiss. Carlos makes a confused noise, Dany’s lips are chapped and warm against his, Dany’s free hat grasping Carlos’s shirt, pulling the Spaniard closer. Carlos takes in the scent of Dany – motor oil and aftershave – his hair falls against Dany’s skin as the Russian deepens the kiss, his tongue swiping over Carlos’s lips. They kiss for a moment, enjoying the feeling of their lips sliding against each other, before they break apart.  
  
Dany smiles widely, his hands still wrapped around the hat. “Thank you for my present, did you knit it yourself?”  
  
“I had some help,” Carlos mutters. “Do you like it?”  
  
“I love it, it’s perfect,” Dany says, showing off his toothy grin. He pulls it onto his head before he captures Carlos’s lips once more. Carlos grins against Dany’s lips as the Russian’s arms slide around his waist, pulling him close. The sea-green hat matches Dany’s eyes perfectly. Carlos’s fingers move over to gently brush against the hat, his lips on Dany’s.

* * *

  
Sebastian and Mitch watch from the door with smug smiles on their faces.  
  
“Finally, those idiots realised that they liked each other,” Mitch says under his breath.  
  
“It’s only taken seven years, “ Sebastian shakes his head.  
  
“Hey, now that’s sorted, we can get Roberto together with Will, they’ve been pining for too long…” Mitch says excitedly.  
  
Sebastian shakes his head, smiling at the grin on his little brother’s face. He and Carlos are grinning at each other, their fingers curling around each other, Carlos’s hat firmly pressed on Dany’s head. Sebastian smiles, thinking of Dan, back at their apartment. He pulls Mitch away to give the new lovers some privacy.


	10. Matchmaker (Fernando/Jenson)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carlos is determined to get his daddies back together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based around a situation I encountered at my own job, I understand that often these situations don't have the fairytale happy ending, but it is Christmas after all. 
> 
> Enjoy!

It’s been a few months since Fernando and Jenson decided to part ways, it was a collective decision and one that was not made lightly. However, Carlos, their five year son, found it difficult. He’d pleaded with Jenson to stay with him and Papa, clinging to his father’s legs, tears in his big brown eyes – inherited from his Papa – as he glanced at his daddy’s suitcase all packed up with his essentials.  
  
“Please don’t go, Daddy, please don’t go,” He mutters into his daddy’s trouser leg, feeling the tears fall down his cheeks as he takes in the familiar smell of his aftershave.  
  
“Hey, mate, I’ll be just around the corner from you, yeah?” Carlos glances up at his daddy, there’s tears in his eyes. “You be good for your Papa,” His hands ruffle Carlos’s thick, dark hair.  
  
“But Daddy, I want you to stay here with me and Papa,” Carlos sobs, pressing his face against his father’s leg. Jenson bends down and cups his sons’ face gently between his hands.  
  
“You be good for your Papa, okay? And I’ll see you soon, mate. I love you,” He leans in and presses kisses to each of Carlos’s tear-stained cheeks.  
  
Carlos sobs harder when his father smiles at his Papa and leaves, the door closing gently behind him. His papa goes to comfort his only son, but Carlos pushes him away, tears falling down his face.  
  
“I don’t want you! I want Daddy back!” Carlos screams, Fernando tries to ignore his son’s cries, wrapping his arms against the five year old. But Carlos wriggles against his hold, pressing his hands against his father’s chest. “I don’t like you anymore, you sent Daddy away!”  
  
Fernando holds onto his son, tears begin to fall down his cheeks as Carlos screams and tries to wrench himself away. Fernando holds onto Carlos tightly until the five year old tires himself, slumping against his chest, silent tears slipping down his face. Carlos’s eyes begin to close slowly, his head falls against Fernando’s chest. The Spaniard strokes over his son’s soft hair, the tears slipping down his own face as he holds his son close.  


* * *

  
  
Carlos has been difficult over the last few months; he refused to eat his dinner, sitting at the table, dark eyes defiant, his food left untouched. He’d started to fuss at school, crying a lot more and getting into trouble with his reception teacher. Fernando is called into school, the teachers hands him a piece of paper with scrawled half-joined up letters on it – clearly his son’s writing – with a picture of three stick people on it. Fernando glances at the picture carefully – two of the figures have dark skin and black hair and the other is blonde with blue dots for eyes. He looks at the writing.  
  
All I want for Christmas…the text says, and underneath Carlos has carefully written,  
  
_for my Papa to love my Daddy again_  
  
Fernando feels his heart break.  


* * *

  
  
“I’d like to invite you over for Christmas, Jenson.” Fernando says, ignoring the fluttering sensation in his chest.  
  
Jenson takes a deep breath, “But-“  
  
“Listen, Carlos hasn’t been doing too good without you,” _and neither have I_ , hangs in the air unsaid. “I want him to have a nice Christmas and he wants his daddy here with him. Please, Jense, for the sake of our son,”  
  
“You know I could never say no to you,” Jenson says softly. “But I don’t want to confuse him-“  
  
“You’ll be staying in the spare room, we can explain to him that you’re staying for Christmas.” Fernando says, breezily.  
  
“But Nando, that’s the thing, what if he thinks we’re getting back together? Maybe I should just have him on Boxing Day-“  
  
“Jense, please, please just come and stay for Christmas,” Fernando whispers.  
  
He hears a deep exhale before his ex-husband agrees. Carlos watches with wide brown eyes from behind his bedroom door.  


* * *

  
  
Jenson arrives on Christmas Eve; he’s just warming up on the welcome mat, shuffling the snow off his shoulders.  
  
“Daddy!” Carlos clings to his father’s legs, bouncing up and down happily.  
  
“Hey, mate,” Jenson says, ruffling his son’s soft hair.  
  
“You came home for Christmas, Daddy.” Carlos replies, his nose pressed against Jenson’s trousers. Jenson picks up the five year old in his arms and blows a raspberry into his chest, making him giggle with laughter.  
  
“Daddy, stop it!”  
  
“Never, you taste like chocolate,” Jenson grins as he blows another raspberry on Carlos. The five year old squirms in his arms, batting his small hands at his father’s face.  
  
“Go away!”  
  
“Looks like you’re having fun,” A familiar accent curls through the air.  
  
Carlos and Jenson freeze to see Fernando standing in the doorway, smiling widely, wearing his favourite red sweater – the one that Jenson had bought him for their first Christmas together.  Jenson tries to ignore the sensation of his heart beating against his chest, his mouth dry as he looks at Fernando, still beautiful as ever under the Christmas lights, his hair soft and tousled.  
  
Carlos decides at that moment to poke Jenson in the cheek and giggle, Jenson tears his eyes away from Fernando, his fingers finding the ticklish spots on Carlos’s body. His son squirms against him.  
  
Fernando laughs. His heart flutters.  


* * *

  
  
They end up making Christmas cookies – it’s somewhat of a tradition in the Alonso-Button household and Carlos ends up with flour smeared across his cheeks, his gap toothed grin wide. Fernando barks out in surprise as Carlos ends up painting his face with flour, the white powder ends up in his hair and Carlos giggles, running into Jenson’s arms as Fernando chases after the five year old.  
  
“Don’t let him get me Daddy!” Carlso shrieks, trying to hide behind Jenson’s legs.  
  
Fernando bends down and smirks, his fingers smeared with flour as he bops his son on the nose. Carlos giggles, the white dot prominent on the end of his little nose. “You little rascal, stop making Papa’s hair a mess,” Fernando says, grinning widely.  
  
“But Daddy likes it when your hair is messy!” Carlos replies. Fernando freezes, glancing up at Jenson with wide brown eyes. He stops for a moment, his tongue swiping over his dry lips.  


* * *

  
  
“Will Santa bring me a present tonight?” Carlos emerges from his room in his favourite blue pyjamas, clutching something close to his chest.  
  
Fernando smiles widely at his son. “I think he’s just been and dropped one off whilst you were getting changed,” He points towards the Christmas tree where a single present rests underneath the branches. Carlos’s eyes widen and he runs towards it and picks it up carefully, sitting on the floor. He pauses for a moment, glancing at his parents.  
  
“What’s the matter, little man, aren’t you going to open your present?” Jenson asks, he’s sitting next to Fernando, watching their son intently.  
  
“I have a present for you first,” Carlos says and he unfurls the paper and climbs up onto the sofa and holds the paper above his parent’s heads. Fernando looks at his son quizzically, before he glances up at the paper. The drawing is something with white berries and green leaves, Jenson looks equally confused.  
  
“What’s the picture of, Carlos?” He asks.  
  
“Mistletoe! You have to kiss!” Carlos says, bouncing up and down. Fernando and Jenson look at each other with fear. They haven’t touched each other since they decided to separate. Jenson sighs heavily before he smiles, moving closer to Fernando.  
  
“C’mon, Fer, it’s mistletoe and our son insists,”  
  
“ _Your_ son, Jense,” Fernando huffs, Jenson’s face is close to his own, he can see the beautiful twinkling blue eyes – the ones he fell in love with so long ago – Jenson’s dark blonde hair shining against the lights of the Christmas tree. He exhales, trying not to think about the man sat before him, he can feel the ghost of Jenson’s breath against his cheek. His heart slams against his ribcage.  
  
“Kiss, Daddies!” Carlos says, waving the paper with the mistletoe drawn on it around in the air.  
  
Jenson leans in further, his eyes almost asking for permission from Fernando, who doesn’t say anything but smiles as he finally leans in to press their lips together. It’s short and sweet – their lips just pushed against each other – it seems to ignite the fire, the warmth inside them both and Fernando allows his lips to dance over Jenson’s – the blonde bites back a moan, remembering his son is watching them intently.  
  
Carlos cheers and jumps up and down as they pull apart. Jenson’s tongue traces over his lips, his blue eyes locked on Fernando’s brown. Fernando’s hand curls around Jenson’s almost tentatively, unnoticed by their son. Jenson glances at Fernando, eyes questioning, Fernando smiles in response.  


* * *

  
  
Carlos’s present, the remote controlled Ferrari, lays on the floor forgotten, Carlos having spent the last two hours on the floor with both of his parents, playing with it. The five year old is curled up in between his two fathers, his head resting against Jenson’s chest, his eyes are closed, his thumb in his mouth. Jenson strokes over the soft hair with one hand, his other wrapped around Fernando’s.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Fernando says softly, careful not to wake Carlos. “I was an idiot,”  
  
“I was an idiot, too, Nando. I’m sorry. I don’t want to let you go, let this go,”  
  
“We need to take our time, Jense,”  
  
“I know, I just want you back and I know he does too,” He glances down at their sleeping son. Fernando smiles softly and leans in to press another soft kiss to Jenson’s lips. He moves away, lazy smile curving over his lips.  
  
“C’mon, lets take Carlos to bed.”  
  
Jenson lifts the sleeping Carlos up and begins to climb the stairs. Fernando’s hand twines with his own and he smiles softly.


	11. Blue Christmas (Lewis/Sebastian) (Past Brocedes)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seb tries to wrangle pieces of Lewis's heart away from Nico's grasp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based loosely on the prompt, “I’ve grown a little leaner, grown a little colder, grown a little sadder, grown a little older.” 
> 
> This is a bittersweet, sort of sad fic, but I thought I would post it now, to remind people that Christmas isn't always a happy time for everyone. The Seb/Lewis is actually pretty light, which was unintended but I think the two relationships are a good contrast.
> 
> Enjoy!

Sebastian and Lewis have known each other a long time; since they were both teenagers with terrible hair and braces sitting in rusty karts by the side of the track. Sebastian remembers the day he was introduced to Lewis; his name already echoing around the European circuit – the boy they said would make it to Formula One, the boy that Schumacher praised – Sebastian already had formed an opinion of Lewis Hamilton, one that was obliterated when he met dark brown eyes, his hand ghosting over dark brown skin, the small gap in his teeth on show as he beams at Sebastian. 

  
Sebastian feels his heart slam against his ribcage; his mouth suddenly turns dry at the sight of the Brit standing before him. He remembers the moment when Lewis’s eyes slid past his own and landed on Nico Rosberg – the golden boy, they called him, infamous on the karting circuit; the famous son of Keke Rosberg, the one that everybody wanted to beat. Sebastian saw Lewis’s eyes and saw the flash of determination in his eyes, but he saw something else, something lurking beneath the surface.  

* * *

  
  
Sebastian knew that Lewis loved Nico – probably before the Brit himself knew, he saw it in the gazes directed towards the blonde. Sebastian felt something rise up inside him, it feels like jealousy but Sebastian tries to push it away – he tries to fill the gap with Mark, and later on with Daniel, but the dull ache for Lewis never stops.  
  
They all tumble into Formula One together- Sebastian watches from the sidelines as the relationship between Lewis and Nico flourishes, the wide grins, the tentative arms sliding around a thin waist, overalls scratching against each other as they bounce up and down together. Sebastian feels the nausea settle back over his chest at the pair together. They seem to fit – Nico with his golden hair and white smile, Lewis with his dark skin and eyes, grinning at each other widely. Sebastian soon follows them into Formula One, he works hard, he doesn’t know if he’s trying to make Lewis notice him.

* * *

  
  
Lewis does. The World Champion trophy is gleaming on the side of the bedside table as Lewis presses Sebastian into the sheets, their lips press against each other, Sebastian rips Lewis’s t-shirt off, his eyes drinking in the sight of the naked torso before him. Lewis kisses Sebastian like he’s thirsty, like Sebastian is the only source of water. His hands tug on Sebastian’s blonde curls, he hisses against Sebastian’s tongue brushing against his mouth. Sebastian’s hand explore every inch of dark skin, Lewis hisses underneath him, his legs curling around Sebastian’s waist, their lips crushed against each other, wet, warm, willing – Sebastian makes his mark on Lewis’s tanned neck, his tongue tracing over the sinews, the salt is sharp against his tongue.  
  
“Nico,” Lewis whispers. It’s loud enough for Sebastian to hear. Sebastian grits his teeth and bites down again, hard enough to bruise, just high enough on Lewis’s neck to be visible.  
  
Sebastian feels the smile curve on his face as he sees Nico’s green eyes flash dark when they fall on the mark decorating Lewis’s neck the next morning at the race. He feels Nico’s gaze move to ghost over himself, he can feel the blonde’s stare burning into his back.  
  
The smile soon vanishes after the race; he wins the race, Lewis is second, the trophy is cool against his fingers, his thoughts are on Lewis, pressing the dark skinned man into the sheets of his bed when he hears a familiar gasp from behind the wall of tyres. He knows that gasp; he’s heard it fall from kiss-swollen lips many a time. He finds Nico pressing Lewis up against the wall, Lewis’s head is thrown back, his eyes are closed and the curve of his neck is exposed. Nico brushes light kisses to the dark skin, his hands tugging at Lewis’s race overalls.  
Nico turns for a moment, his dark green eyes meet Sebastian’s blue. He winks.  
  
Sebastian turns on his heel and leaves with his trophy. He lays on his bed and thinks about everything – is it wise to get in between Lewis and Nico? Their relationship is almost mythic, told in karting circles to new drivers – Sebastian thinks back to when things were simpler, when Lewis shared his bed in the summer, the covers pooled around his naked form, the white material a stark contrast to his dark skin.

* * *

  
  
Lewis and Nico break apart in 2014 – the pieces fall at the feet of every other driver, who looks at the previous golden couple with sad, pitiful eyes. They watch the two men turn on each other, the car that was supposed to unite them only serves to drive them further apart. Sebastian watches from the sidelines, he comforts Lewis when he can – his hand curves over Lewis’s in the press conferences, he hugs the slighter man closer to him, feels the wetness soak into his Red Bull t-shirt.  
  
It’s Christmas Eve. Sebastian is enjoying a mug of hot chocolate – with a tiny bit of brandy laced into it – the Christmas tree is strewn with lights and the few gifts lay under the branches ready to be opened. He hears a hurried knock at the door and raises an eyebrow. He moves to place his mug on the coffee table and goes to answer the door.  
  
“Lewis?” He says in surprise.  
  
The Brit is standing on the doorstep, shivering in a thin long-sleeved t-shirt, tears streaming down his face. Sebastian immediately pulls Lewis into a hug, brushing the snowflakes out of Lewis’s hair. He tries not to look at the ones clinging to his eyelashes and lips; he tries not to press his lips against Lewis’s. The Brit looks heartbroken and Sebastian knows that Nico is the cause of it.  
  
“He’s getting married…he is going to propose to her tomorrow,” Lewis mutters against Sebastian’s chest thickly.  
  
“Oh, Lewis,” Sebastian whispers, his hand stroking gently over Lewis’s back. “I’m sorry,”  
  
“It’s not your fault, Seb. I’m sorry for bothering you on Christmas,” Lewis wrenches himself away, pushing the sleeve of his jumper against his face. “I should go, I’m sorry-“  
  
“Stay-“ Sebastian whispers, his blue eyes locking with Lewis’s brown.

* * *

  
  
Lewis ends up curled against Sebastian, his head resting against Sebastian’s chest, another mug of steaming hot cocoa is resting on the coffee table.  Sebastian strokes over Lewis’s hair – he’s grown it out in the last few months, it suits him – listening to the soft tones of the Brit.  
  
“When did everything go wrong?” Lewis says softly, glancing at the glittering tree. “Why is it always around Christmas? I love Christmas-“  
  
“Did he tell you that he was going to marry her?” Sebastian asks.  
  
Lewis nods against his chest. “He came up to my apartment, he sat on my sofa and he held my hand. He showed me the ring, it’s beautiful, she will love it,” He swipes away the tears from his face. “I loved him, Seb, I think I always did and I always will. I’m not sorry for loving him,”  
  
Sebastian nods, allowing the Brit to speak.  
  
“We’ve been together almost half of our lives…I thought we were going to be together forever, we used to talk about getting married and adopting a couple of kids. We were fifteen and I guess it was stupid, but I believed him. We had our first kiss under the mistletoe at a karting party, he was wearing the ugliest Christmas jumper ever. We lost our virginity to each other when we were sixteen-“ Blush dances over Lewis’s cheeks. “It was weird, we both couldn’t stop laughing.”  
  
“Then it went wrong,” Sebastian says quietly.  
  
“Doesn’t it always?” Lewis replies, his brown eyes full of tears. “We had a couple of good years…we ended up sleeping together at every other Grand Prix, had sex by the Monaco swimming pool…but then Mercedes and Vivian happened, he stopped being the man I fell in love with. Last Christmas…he told me things would be different, that this would bring us together. He kissed me, we made love in his bed…he said he loved me-“ Lewis stops for a moment, exhaling deeply.  
  
“He told me he knew about you, he hated the fact that we’d been together. But I told him that he couldn’t have Vivian and expect me to just wait around for his attention. I don’t know anymore, Seb, he confuses me so much, I don’t know what to do anymore,” Lewis’s voice cracks.  
  
“Just stay,” Sebastian whispers, his hand carding through Lewis’s hair. “It’s Christmas after all,”  
  
Lewis nods, “Only if we can watch Home Alone and make out,” The small smile curves over his lips.  
  
Sebastian grins and opens up his Netflix, Lewis’s lips on his before the opening credits even begin. Lewis has a long way to go to get over Nico, he’ll probably never fully get over the blonde, but Sebastian can try and recover the pieces of Lewis’s heart that are left. He glances at the Christmas tree and moves closer to the Brit, his lips ghosting over Lewis’s cheek.  
  
  
  



	12. I'll be Your Present (Pascal/Mitch)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mitch surprises Pascal by flying over to Germany for the Christmas holidays.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a bit out of inspiration at the moment so I hope this is okay. This is from a prompt by the lovely Emma. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Pascal sighs heavily, turning over the pages of the novel he was reading; the crime thriller seemed interesting enough but to Pascal, nothing could hold his attention for more than a few seconds. He glances at his phone, but it remains strangely silent. He’s not heard from Mitch in a few days; he’s even taken to checking the Kiwi’s Instagram and Snapchat accounts, but they’ve been strangely quiet for the last couple of days.  
  
Pascal glances up, watching his Vati carefully wind the coloured lights around the Christmas tree, his Dad in the kitchen humming to some old rap music on the radio, the smell of mince pies floats through the air. It’s Christmas in the Hamilton-Rosberg household, usually Pascal’s favourite time of year, but this year, he finds himself hating it. Mitch had told Pascal at the end of season party that he was spending Christmas in Australia with his father; and Pascal had accepted this – it was their first Christmas together and they’d only been dating for a few months. He didn’t think he’d miss the tanned skin, the wide smile, the light hazel eyes of his boyfriend so much, but he did. Pascal tries to ignore the light giggles of his father from the kitchen, his Vati presumably on his way to steal a fresh baked mince pie, the Christmas music blaring out in the background.  
  
Pascal resists the urge to text his boyfriend again, he’s sent him about eight texts over the last three days and none of them have been answered. Pascal glances out of the window – they’re staying at the house that his grandfather bought as a wedding present for his fathers – close to the place his Vati and himself were born and brought up.  
  
Pascal misses Monaco; it’s colder here, he can’t see the seas as he can from their balcony in Monaco, he hates the snow collecting on the windowpanes. They rarely use this house anymore, they usually stay at their apartment in Monaco, but every year, his Vati brings him back to Germany.  Pascal wants to be home, he wants his own bed, his own bedroom, the big Christmas tree that his father always digs out sitting in the corner of their lounge.  


* * *

  
  
Pascal ends up going to bed early than usual, his fathers are curled up on the other couch, his Vati pressing a kiss to the side of his Dad’s hair, the small smiles decorating their faces, their hands tangled together. Pascal tries not to imagine Mitch at the side of him, his lips grazing the side of Pascal’s face, their fingers ghosting together, Mitch’s smile tugging in the corner of his mouth.  
  
He glances at his phone once more, there’s no new messages or calls. Pascal goes to bed with a heavy heart, he ignores his father’s worried glances, tosses his iPhone on the side of the bedside table and crawls under the cold, scratchy sheets. He feels his eyes slowly close, tugged into dreams of snow, Mitch and alcohol covered kisses.  


* * *

  
  
Pascal is awoken later that night by his phone chirping, he twists around in the covers, sleep still clinging to the corners of his eyes as he pushes a hand through his messy dark hair. His phone is lit up with one new message. He sighs heavily and swipes across the screen.  
  
From: Mitch  
__  
Please come to the front door.  
  
Pascal feels his heart slam against his ribcage, his mouth turns dry at the sound of the words across his screen. He wonders if Mitch is just messing around; he’s in Australia with his father, he’s probably drunk at one of the infamous Webber parties, Pascal imagines him with his hand wrapped around a bottle of spirits, the other around his phone. He suddenly feels a surge of anger at the Kiwi’s words and taps out an answer.  
  
_Don’t play games with me, Evans._  
  
The reply is almost instantaneous.  
  
_I’m not playing games, please come and open the front door, Wehrlein. It’s bloody cold out here._  
  
Pascal’s eyes widen at the response and he carefully shuffles out of bed and down the hallway, past his parent’s bedroom door; he can hear the soft snores of his father as he passes, hoping to avoid the creaky stair. He climbs down the stairs carefully and pauses at the front door for a moment before he draws back the chain and unlocks the door. He opens the door, hissing at the sudden gust of cold that flows over his body. However, his heart is suddenly warmed by the person standing on the doorstep. Mitch stands before him, wrapped in a large khaki parka; his nose is bright red and he’s shivering ever so slightly but there’s a wide grin on his face.  
  
“Merry Christmas, ‘Cal,” He says softly, his dark eyes dancing.  
  
“You’re not supposed to be here, Mitch,” Pascal says, still in shock. “You’re supposed to be in Australia-“  
  
“I decided that I didn’t want to spend Christmas without you,” Mitch smiles.  
  
“You didn’t text me or call,” Pascal begins.  
  
“I went to your place in Monaco, I thought you’d be there but one of your neighbours told me that you always go back to Germany for the holidays. There was no more flights to Germany from the airport so I drove here, I wanted it to be a surprise.”  
  
“You drove all the way from Monaco to Wiesbaden?” Pascal says, his eyes wide. “I thought you didn’t care but-“  
  
“’Cal, I drove all that way to come and see you, I bought you some flowers too but they died on the way here, unless you want a half-wilted bouquet of flowers?”  
  
Pascal shakes his head and allows his boyfriend to step inside. Mitch shakes the snow from his shoulders and the hood of his jacket, wiping his boots carefully on the welcome mat. Pascal accepts Mitch’s coat and goes to hang it up to dry. He collects a towel from the downstairs linen cupboard.  
  
“This is a nice place,” Mitch says, glancing around the house. He accepts the towel and begins rubbing at his slightly wet hair.  
  
“Thanks, I grew up here, my parents lived here when they were on break from racing. I like it sometimes, it’s good to get away from the bustle of Monaco, but other times I like being in Monaco, I like that’s my home y’know? What are you doing here anyway? Does your dad know?”  
  
“My dad noticed me pining and told me to get my arse on a plane to Monaco, he said he didn’t want me being unhappy at Christmas,” Mitch tells his boyfriend, wide grin on his face. “I’m sorry for not telling you and not replying to your texts, I didn’t want to spoil the surprise. Then I got to Monaco and your place was abandoned,”  
  
“I’m sorry, I should have said something,”  
  
“Hey,” Mitch says softly, his hand moving to brush over Pascal’s cheek. “Stop worrying, it’s fine, those German motorways take a while to get used to, but, it was fine, I wanted to see you-“  
  
Pascal nods, biting his lip as he tugs Mitch up the stairs. Their fingers curl together as Mitch follows Pascal into the bedroom, the younger German presses the Kiwi into the sheets of his bed, his lips immediately connecting with Mitch’s. Mitch whines against him as Pascal moves away for a moment, pulling his t-shirt over his head, revealing tanned skin and developing muscles. Mitch allows his eyes to drink in the sight of his boyfriend, his fingers move out to trace over the tattoo that Pascal had somehow acquired.  
  
“This is new,” Mitch whispers, leaning up to pull off his own shirt. His fingers continue to trace over the scabbing skin.  
  
“I got it a couple of days ago, went to the place my dad recommended. Vati went mad as expected, but I’m hoping the Christmas present I got for him should redeem me,”  
  
“What did you get him?”  
  
“A trip for him and Dad to a remote island in Bora Bora or something, Seb helped me out with it. Anyway, I’d rather not discuss my dad when we’re naked…” Pascal says.  
  
Mitch smirks and pulls Pascal down on top of him, brushing their lips together. Their bodies seem to connect, their fingers brushing over, exploring every inch of each other’s bodies, tongues sliding against each other, sighs threatening to dance past their lips. Pascal feels the warmth spread through his lower thighs once more as Mitch deepens the kiss, his fingernails raking down the tanned skin, marking him out for his own.  
  
“I missed you,” Pascal whispers against Mitch’s skin. “I missed you so much,”  
  
“I missed you too, I can give you your Christmas present now,” Mitch smirks, flipping his boyfriend over, his mouth dances over the tanned skin of his boyfriend, sliding over the sinews of his neck, over his collarbone – the scabbing tattoo is rough against his tongue as he dips down over Pascal’s stomach. Pascal fists the sheets in his hands as Mitch’s mouth delves lower, exploring every inch of his lover.  
  
“Oh god,”  
  
“No, my name is Mitch,” He whispers against Pascal’s skin, earning a glare from the German as his fingers twist into the sheets once more, Mitch’s name falls from his lips.  The couple lost themselves in each other, their fingers brush over each other’s bodies, their lips find each other once more.  
  
“Merry Christmas Pascal,”  
  
“Merry Christmas Mitchy,” Pascal whispers back, resting his hand against Mitch’s chest. “You’re the best Christmas present ever,”  


* * *

  
  
“What are you doing, you idiot?” Nico hisses under his breath at the sight of his husband pressing his ear up against the wall.  
  
“I’m just checking if they’re alright,” Lewis says, innocently.  
  
“Stop checking up on them and come and keep me warm,” Nico chides. Lewis grins and slides back into the bed next to Nico, pressing a light kiss to his hair.  
  
“I’m glad we’re all together for Christmas,” Lewis whispers against Nico’s skin.   
  
“Don’t forget my dad and mom are arriving tomorrow lunchtime,” Nico says. 

“What?!” Lewis half yells. Nico laughs and presses a kiss to his lips.  
  
“Stop complaining. Besides, they wanted to meet their grandson’s boyfriend,” Nico says softly as Lewis settles back down against him.


	13. Give it a Try (Jess/Vivian) (Background Lewis/Nico)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jessica and Vivian discover their feelings for each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a monster and it's not really Christmassy, but it has ~lesbians~ in it, so what can you do? This is really a fic for the wonderful Lis, who encouraged me to start shipping these wonderful women together and also making me see Vivian and Nico as twins. Also, Lewis/Vivian friendship will always be one of my favourite things.
> 
> Enjoy!

Vivian sighs heavily as she watches her parents run around the house, preparing their house ready for the annual Rosberg party. She continues painting her nails – it’s a sort of dark purple colour – whilst huffing at the dress hanging up on the front of her wardrobe. She watches her mother pass by with a large crate of wine, her blonde hair in rollers. Her father had been running around the night before, placing fairy lights around every stair banister and draping them artfully around all of the photos of the Rosberg family that adorned the front hallway.  
  
“Vivian?” A familiar voice cuts off her thoughts. Nico, her twin brother, stands in the doorway. He’s already ready for the party – his perfectly pressed navy suit is stretched over his shoulders, the slightly off-white shirt is uncreased underneath. His blonde hair, getting slightly longer and curling around his ears is swept back from his face. He smiles sheepishly at his sister, holding up a matching navy bowtie.  
  
“Nico, my nails are wet,” Vivian says, raising an eyebrow.  
  
“I see Mum is making you put on your best outfit too,” Nico ignores her statement, his green eyes glancing at the gold and black dress resting on the wardrobe.  
  
Vivian accepts the bowtie from Nico and begins to work it around her brother’s neck, she folds over the ends. “I heard Mum invited the Hamiltons to the party tonight,” She glances at Nico, he’s biting his lip, trying to keep his face neutral.  
  
“Yeah and?”  
  
“That means Lewis will be there,” Vivian smirks, as she continues fiddling with Nico’s bowtie. She sees the faint blush dance over Nico’s cheeks and up the side of his neck.  
  
“Why should I care if Lewis is there?” Nico finally splutters.  
  
“Because you like him, more than a friend if that blush on your face is anything to go by-“ Vivian says, rolling her eyes as she finally pulls the bowtie into place. She moves to smooth down the lapels of her brother’s suit.  
  
“Vivian, I don’t, me and Lewis-“  
  
“Don’t worry, you look amazing.” Vivian cuts Nico off. “Your hair could use a trim,”  
  
“My hair is fine, besides, Lewis said it looked good a little longer-“ Nico says, the tips of his ears turning pink.  
  
“Lewis said?” Vivian smirks. “I’m not saying anything else,” She holds up her hands in surrender.  
  
“What?” Nico asks, raising an eyebrow.  
  
“You and Lewis, you’re both idiots. He likes you, you know? He likes you more than a friend, I’ve seen the way he looks at you,”  
  
“Vivian, drop it please, Lewis and I are just friends.” Nico says, biting his lip.  
  
Vivian nods, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. “Okay, whatever you say, can I get ready now? Otherwise, Mum is gonna shout at me.”  
  
Nico nods once and leaves the room. Vivian sighs and begins to brush through her long blonde hair. She empties out her make up bag onto her dresser, picking through the various tubes and pots. She hate parties; she hates getting ready for parties and having to smile at every single one of her parent’s guests, they will smile at her and comment on how she’s grown into a fine young woman, they’ll look at her breasts and smile widely. She hates it. She slips the gold and black dress over her head and slides it into place, rearranging her hair. She looks at herself in the mirror, sweeping on a layer of her favourite plum coloured lipstick. She already feels the tightness of her dress, almost constricting, she sighs heavily as she readjusts her hair.  


* * *

  


The party is in full swing. Vivian has had a few glasses of champagne – not enough to get her drunk, but enough to numb her senses somewhat, to make everything seem brighter and more beautiful. She spots Lewis sweep into the room, clad in a beautiful charcoal grey suit. He looks stunning, diamond earrings shimmering in his ears, wide grin on his face. She glances around for Nico – immediately spotting her twin’s golden hair, she watches her brother smile at Lewis, blush spreading over his neck as their eyes lock. Lewis smiles at Nico, giving him a small wave. Vivian rolls her eyes at the pair and continues to walk down the stairs. She reaches the bottom and her high heel catches on the step, she falters, feeling herself fall forward, only to be met with softness. Warm brown eyes look down at her, a wide smile on lip gloss covered lips.  
  
“Viv,” Jess smiles. Vivian feels blush spread over her cheeks at the sight of the older woman – Jess Michibata, the daughter of one of her father’s friends, stands before her, looking beautiful. Her long dark hair is set in curls, cascading artfully down her back. Her dress, a dark midnight blue clings to every curve of her body, highlighting her golden skin.  
  
“Jess,” Vivian says, finally. “How are you doing?”  
  
“I’m good, you look good Vivian.” Jess smiles. “I haven’t seen you for a while,”  
  
“Yeah, we’ve been staying in Italy for a few months…Nico racing and everything, you?”  
  
“Oh, my dad ended up taking a job in Dubai so we were there for six months.”  
  
“I missed you, Jess, wasn’t the same without you. Nico has been driving me mad and college is a nightmare.”  
  
“I missed you too, Viv. Sorry I haven’t been there for you,” Jess whispers, her brown eyes meeting Vivian’s. Vivian tries to ignore the fluttering sensation in her chest as she smiles and makes her excuses to leave. She’d kissed Jess over a year ago, around Christmas time, they were both sixteen, Vivian was wearing an awful red dress and her mother had made her curl her hair. She remembers the feeling of Jess’s soft lips against her own, the smeared shiny lipgloss that clung to her lips afterwards, the small smile that Jess had given her when she pulled away.  
  
She doesn’t notice Jess’s brown eyes linger on her as she walks away, snagging a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and downing it in one.  


* * *

  
  
Vivian ends up sitting on the side of the swimming pool, her high heels perched at the side of her, her feet in the cool water. She sighs heavily, trying to push away the thoughts of Jess.  
  
“Mind if I join you?” A familiar voice asks, breaking the silence.  
  
Vivian glances around and sees Lewis standing behind her, a small smile on his face. She nods and he kneels down next to her; she feels warmth ghost over her shoulders and glances down to see Lewis’s charcoal grey suit jacket falling over her body. She smiles as he pulls off his shoes and socks and sits next to her, dipping his feet into the water. She glances at his dark skin, at the hair on his legs and leans into him, sighing heavily.  
  
“I saw you with Jess,” Lewis says quietly. He allows her to lean against him, her soft hair brushing against his bare arm.  
  
“I talked nonsense to her, she must think I’m an absolute idiot,”  
  
“Vivi, she wouldn’t think that of you. You’re amazing, you’re smart, funny, you’re beautiful. Why wouldn’t she see that?”  
  
“Why would she want someone like me, Lewis?” Vivian looks down at the water.  
  
“If she can’t see what I see, Vivi, she doesn’t deserve you,” Lewis says, grasping her hand gently and squeezing.  
  
“You’re too good to me, Hamilton,” Vivian smiles and squeezes back. “I guess we should go back in, before my parents wonder where I am,”  
  
“Before they accuse me of stealing you away and taking your virtue in your dad’s rose bushes, you mean?” Lewis smirks.  
  
Vivian delivers a soft slap to Lewis’s arm. “You’re not my type,”  
  
“I know, I don’t have any breasts,” Lewis smirks as he picks up his shoes.  


* * *

  
  
Vivian and Lewis make their way back through the double French doors, when they’re met with a shocking sight. Nico, clearly drunk, is kissing Jess – their lips collide together, Jess’s manicured fingers clasping at Nico’s open shirt, his skin shimmering slightly with sweat under the dim lights.  
  
“Nico?” Vivian says, her voice audible over the music.  
  
Nico rips his mouth away from Jess, his lips are swollen from kisses and alcohol, his green eyes slightly glazed as he glances at his twin sister. However, his gaze drops at Lewis who is still standing at the side of Vivian. Lewis has gone pale, his brown eyes are wide with shock as he glances between a clearly-drunk Nico, his shirt still open, and Jess who is panting, glancing at Vivian with guilty eyes.  
  
“What is going on?” Vivian asks, glancing between her brother and Jess.  
  
“Vinnie, please listen to me, it’s not what you think-“ Nico begins.  
  
Vivian’s brown eyes narrow in anger. “Don’t you dare, Nico Rosberg. Don’t you dare say that to me,”  
  
“Vinnie, please listen,”  
  
Vivian glances at Jess, who is looking at the floor. “Why should I listen to you? So you can tell me that it was a big mistake? That you were drunk on Christmas punch and it won’t happen again?” Her gaze never wavers from Jess. “I liked you, Jess, I liked you more than a friend-“ She pauses, ignoring the tears that begin to fall from her cheeks. “But I guess you like Nico more,”  
  
“Vivian, please,” Nico pleads.  
  
“I don’t want to hear anymore, Nico, I’m done with your excuses,” Vivian whispers, stalking past the pair, hoping that they do not follow. She stalks into her bedroom, tearing back the covers and throwing herself inside them, curling up underneath the soft material. She hears the door gently open and the bed move at the side of her.  
  
“Vivi?” Lewis’s voice sounds wet. She lifts up the covers and allows her best friend to crawl into the bed next to her. She sighs as she feels Lewis’s hands curl around her waist.  
  
“Vivi, are you alright? I know it’s a stupid question but-“  
  
“I can’t believe that Nico kissed her, Lewis, he knew that I liked her more than a friend and he kissed her anyway,” Vivian sobs against Lewis.  
  
“He was drunk, Vivi, he said that he used to have a huge crush on her when they were younger-“ Lewis whispers, stroking her back.  
  
“I know and I felt guilty every time I thought about her in that way, Lewis. I just…I really like her and I wanted to ask her out tonight but it’s too late now,”  
  
“It’s never too late,” Lewis whispers, ignoring the stabbing pain in his own chest.  


* * *

  
  
“Vinnie? Can we talk?” Nico asks, the next morning. Vivian is already sitting at the kitchen table, staring at her twin with daggers in her eyes. Lewis is still asleep in her bed, she let him sleep, she knows that his heart shattered last night when Nico pressed his lips against Jess’s.  
  
“Sure,” She says, licking the yogurt from her spoon.  
  
“I wanted to apologise for last night, I know how you felt about Jess and I kissed her anyway,”  
  
“You should apologise to Lewis, not to me, Nico,” Vivian snaps, her voice is sharp like the icicles adorning the window.  
  
“What?” Nico looks confused.  
  
Vivian fights the urge to sigh heavily. Her twin brother is so clueless about the dark skinned boy sleeping in her bed. “Never mind,” She says carefully.  
  
“Why should I apologise to Lewis, Vivian?”  
  
“Maybe you should ask him that, Nico. Are you finished now with your apology? I have some last minute Christmas presents to buy,”  
  
“Vinnie, please believe me. I’m sorry, I didn’t know that you still felt that way about her. I wouldn’t have kissed her otherwise.” Nico pleads.  
  
“I think you should leave for now, Nico,” Vivian says coldly.  
  


* * *

  
  
“You’re angry at me,” Jess’s voice glosses over Vivian’s thoughts. Vivian continues wrapping her Christmas presents as though the Japanese girl isn’t there. She wrestles Nico’s present (a rather expensive royal blue shirt) into some shiny wrapping paper and glances up at Jess.  
  
“I’m not angry, Jess, I just wish you’ve have told me,”  
  
“But me and Nico, we’re not a thing, I just-“  
  
“It’s okay, Jess. You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” Vivian says breezily.  
  
“Viv,” Jess says softly. Vivian’s hands still on the shiny wrapping paper, her brown eyes look up to glance over at the younger girl.  
  
“Look, me and Nico had history, but that’s all it is, it’s old history. I don’t even know why I kissed him, Viv. I don’t love him anymore, my feelings are gone,”  
  
“Fair enough, why are you telling me this?” Vivian says, taping down the corners of the shiny paper.  
  
“Because I know you got upset at me kissing him, and I know that you felt something, last New Years Eve-“  
  
Vivian’s fingers still on the paper. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jess,”  
  
“Vivian, stop lying to yourself,” Jess says, his eyes dark. “You said to me that you liked me as more than a friend,”  
  
“That was before you started kissed my brother, Jessica. Why would you want me when you could have somebody like him? Nobody ever notices me; the last one to be born, the one who didn’t follow in Daddy’s footsteps. Nobody notices me – they just notice Nico, he’s the golden boy, the one who will become famous and get married first and give Mom the blonde grandkids she wants. Me? I’m nothing, the spare baby that nobody planned for, why would anybody notice me when he’s around?” Vivian says, the present lying forgotten on the floor in front of her, tears pricking the corners of her eyes.  
  
“I noticed you, I’ve noticed you since you were fifteen, I remember that Christmas party when you came downstairs and you were wearing a gold dress and your hair was up in some fancy twist. I remember I was with Nico at the time but everyone stopped and looked at you, I thought about the girl behind the make up, the one in the sweatpants with the messy hair who opened the door to greet me with a smile-“  
  
“But, you can’t-“  
  
“Vivian,” Jess whispers, her hand moving to ghost over Vivian’s cheek. “I thought that you liked boys, I thought you liked Lewis-“  
  
“Lewis is my best friend and he’s-“  
  
“I know,” Jess says, her voice is soft, her eyes still dark. “I know that now, I hope that Nico finally stops being an idiot, but that’s what I thought. Then I got to know you, and I felt something more, I wanted to be more than friends with you,”  
  
“I want that too,” Vivian says, she tries not to look at the older Japanese girl.  “But I need time,”  
  
Jess doesn’t say anything else. She leaves and Vivian continues to wrap the present for Nico, trying to ignore the tears in the corners of her eyes.  


* * *

  
  
“Vivi, c’mon, there must be something that he doesn’t have,” Lewis says, dragging his best friend through the department store.  “I need a good Christmas present for him,”  
  
“You need to not leave it til the last minute, Hamilton,” Vivian rolls her eyes as she’s pulled past the make-up counters. “You should get him some asshole spray, you know the stuff that makes you less of an asshole?”  
  
“Vivian,”  
  
“Lewis, he’s my twin, special twin privileges, I’m allowed to say that,” Vivian says as Lewis pulls her over to the clothes rails. “You better not get him a jumper,”  
  
“I won’t get him a jumper, I got him that teal one once and he hated it,” Lewis says, glancing through the rails. “What about a nice coat?”  
  
“He has millions, Lewis, but I’m sure he’d be happy whatever you get him,”  
  
“Vivi, help me out here,” Lewis pleads.  
  
“Lewis, he’s your best friend,” Vivian snaps out, glancing at some expensive perfume, she still hadn’t bought Jess her gift yet.  
  
“But you know him better than anyone,” Lewis says, his hand still grasping Vivian’s.  
  
“Lew? Vinnie?” A familiar voice cuts in. Lewis glances up into dark green eyes. Nico stands before them, looking puzzled. He glances at their entwined hands for a moment, Vivian smirks at the blush decorating Lewis’s cheeks.  
  
“Nice jumper by the way,” Nico says, smiling at Lewis’s Christmas jumper, decorated with a giant Christmas pudding. The tips of Lewis’s ears go red underneath his hat.  
  
“Thanks, are you trying to get your last minute Christmas shopping done too?” Lewis asks.  
  
Vivian fights the urge to roll her eyes. “Hey, lovebirds. I’d hate to break up your moment, but Lewis really really has to get his special person a gift? We’ll see you later, dear brother,”  
  
Vivian drags a still protesting Lewis away, smiling at the blush decorating his face. “God, you and my brother are so sickening, why can’t you just get together like normal people?”  
  
“He doesn’t like me in that way, Vivian,” Lewis says, glancing at his trainers.  
  
Vivian shakes her head. “You’re an idiot, my brother is an idiot too. He doesn’t like you in that way? Lewis, he was totally just checking you out, he didn’t like the fact that you were holding my hand,”  
  
“God, he thinks I’m straight, he thinks I’m dating you,” Lewis whines as Vivian drags him towards the bookstore. “I’m such a failure, I’m going to die alone,”  
  
“Like I’d let that happen, I have yours and my idiot brother’s wedding to plan,” Vivian says.  


* * *

  
  
Vivian puts the finishing touches to Jess’s present and stands back, glancing at the carefully wrapped present, the big bow tied with a flourish. There’s a soft knock at her bedroom door.  
  
“Come in,” She says, glancing at the bow once more.  
  
Nico steps into her bedroom, his teeth caught between his lip. He doesn’t say anything as he watches his twin sister carefully rearrange the bow on top of the present.  
  
“Is it for Jess?” Nico asks, his dark green eyes are fixed on the bow.  
  
Vivian nods ever so slightly. “Yes, I bought her a new necklace,”  
  
“I’m sure she’ll love it, Vinnie,” Nico says, watching her intently.  
  
“You didn’t come to watch me wrap up presents, spit it out, what is it?” Vivian asks, her eyes flicker up to meet her brothers.  
  
“I know about you and Jess,” Nico replies, his eyes on Vivian. “I know you have feelings for her,”  
  
“And? So you figured out I’m not straight?”  
  
“Vinnie, please-“ Nico pleads. “I came to tell you that Jess and I…that’s in the past, I don’t have feelings for her anymore, there used to be something there but there isn’t anymore. I’ve moved on and I think she should too,”  
  
“Is this your way of giving me your blessing?” Vivian raises an eyebrow in surprise.  
  
“Of course not, you know I’d love you no matter what, Vinnie. I want you to be happy,” Nico says, moving towards his twin sister. She stops wrapping the presents and wraps her arms around him, her head fitting against the crook of his neck.  
  
“I’m sorry for being a bitch to you,” Vivian utters against his shirt. “I want you to be happy too, I’m sorry for everything,”  
  
“I’m sorry for not supporting you more, I wish you’d told me that you liked girls, I would have understood,”  
  
“I know you would have, I just didn’t feel ready to tell you then, we kissed when you and her were dating and I felt so wrong afterwards,” Vivian hangs her head.  
  
“Hey,” Nico says softly, his hand on her chin. “You can’t help who you fall in love with. It’s okay, I’m just glad I know for sure now,” He pauses for a moment, “So when are you going to ask her out?”  
  
“When you pull the stick out of your ass and tell Lewis how you really feel.”  
  
Nico laughs, his arms still around his little sister.  


* * *

  
  
Vivian arrives at the party been thrown by Jess’s parents, she’s in another tight dress, this one is golden and shiny, spilling down artfully over her shoulders down to the floor. Her mother had let her borrow one of her diamond necklaces, her hair swept into an up-do. Vivian feels fake; she doesn’t feel herself, she clings to Nico’s proffered arm, her hands wrapped around her bag containing Jess’s present. She feels slightly dizzy as they walk through the double French doors into the landing area. A huge Christmas tree, over ten feet tall, stands proudly at the foot of the stairs, the lights are twinkling. Gifts are artfully laid under the branches.  
  
“Guess they went all out this year,” Nico whispers to Vivian who smiles softly at her brother as they walk through a grotto of twinkling lights, accepting the glass of champagne at the other side. It’s slightly bitter and dry against her tongue.  
  
“Steady on, Vinnie, I don’t want to carry you to bed like I had to, three years ago,”

“Nico, I was seventeen then and Jenson had just told me he had been cheating on me, how did you expect me to do?”  
  
Nico raises an eyebrow. “Not get so drunk that you lose your shoes and think that getting a tattoo is a good idea,”  
  
“You’re so boring sometimes, you should get drunk and live a little, Nico,”  
  
“And miss out on carrying my baby sister to bed? I don’t think so,”  
  


* * *

  
  
Vivian eventually tires of the party, she’s slightly buzzed on the few glasses of champagne she’s had; Nico disappeared from her side to go and talk to a white-suited Lewis, who smiled at her warmly. She ends up sitting on the stairs in the grand hallway, glancing at her reflection on one of the giant baubles, away from the music.  
  
“Mind if I join you?” A voice cuts through the silence. Vivian glances up into brown eyes. Jess stands before her wearing a beautiful sweeping red dress, her hair curled, her lips bright red with lipstick.  
  
“I’m not good company at the moment,” Vivian admits.  
  
“That’s okay, I’m not either,” Jess sits down on the step next to Vivian. “I hate these sort of parties, I just want to sit in my pyjamas and watch Netflix you know?”  
  
“I know, I hate them too. I hate having to dress up and look pretty for everyone,” Vivian says, she begins pulling her hair free of the twist it’s in, her long blonde hair tumbles down her back. Jess’s eyes never leave hers.  
  
“I have something for you,” she continues, sifting through her bag.  
  
“What is it?” Jess asks, her brown eyes are dark.  
  
“Just a little something from me,” Vivian says, holding out the box decorated with the ribbon. Jess takes it carefully, glancing at Vivian.  
  
“Can I open it now?”  
  
Vivian nods and Jess pulls the bow away and gently tears the paper off the box. She opens it and a smile spreads across her face. Sitting on the white silk is a beautiful Pandora charm shaped like a candy cane. Jess smiles.  
  
“Thank you, it’s beautiful, you shouldn’t have though,” Jess whispers, her eyes dance up to meet Vivian’s.  
  
“You deserve everything, Jess, I wanted you to have something special,” Vivian says softly, biting her lip. “I wanted to give you something else but it doesn’t matter now,”  
  
“What-“ Jess begins but she’s cut off by Vivian gently kissing her lips, Vivian’s lipgloss smearing over the corners of her mouth. It’s a feather touch, it only lasts for a moment, but it’s enough – Jess pulls away gasping for air, her brown eyes fixed on the blonde before her.  
  
“Viv-“  
  
“I had some time to think and I want to give this thing a try,” Vivian whispers, her smile is shy as she clasps Jess’s hand in her own. “I don’t want to pretend anymore.”  
  
Jess nods. “C’mon, lets get out of this party,” She says, tugging the blonde up the stairs, laughter bubbles over their lips as they enter Jess’s room and kick off their high heels. Vivian exhales deeply as Jess moves towards her, their eyes lock on each other as Jess carefully pulls down the zip of Vivian’s dress, slowly, taking her time – the silky material falls down over Vivian’s curves, pooling around her ankles.  
  
“You’re beautiful,” Jess whispers at the sight of Vivian in her bra and knickers, her lips latch onto Vivian’s collarbone, tracing over pale unmarked skin. Vivian gasps against her, Jess smiles as her tongue dances over Vivian’s body, mapping out every inch. Vivian’s manicured fingernails scratch against Jess’s dress, one gently brushing through her dark hair.  
  
“Vivian,” Jess breathes as her lips move away, she unzips her own dress, the red silk falling into a pool at her feet. She guides Vivian towards the bed, pressing her into the sheets. The blonde bites her lip, glancing up at the Japanese girl.  
  
“Hey, it’s okay,” Jess whispers as she brushes a hand through Vivian’s blonde hair.  
  
Vivian smiles as their lips meet once more.  


* * *

  
  
Nico watches Jess pull his sister up the stairs, smiles on their faces, their eyes hungry. A warm hand twines around his own, he meets brown eyes and a wide gap-toothed smile.  
  
“Hope you’re not thinking of leaving this party, Rosberg?”  
  
“Only if you come with me, Hamilton,” Nico says, smiling back. Lewis’s thumb brushes over his own.

   



	14. Christmas Cookies (Sebastian/Dan)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan enlists Seb's help to make cookies for Checo's party. Things don't go according to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on the prompt; You called me at two in the morning insisting that I come over and help you bake Christmas cookies for the party tomorrow because you forgot to make them earlier and now need help AU. 
> 
> This is actually one of my favourite fics I've posted and I like how it turned out. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Sebastian is fast asleep in his bed, wrapped up inside the warm sheets when he hears a familiar ringing pulling him out of his dreams. He hates that Fancy song, but when it came out, Dan had taken to singing it at any opportunity, even humming the chorus under his breath when they were making out, so it became Dan's ringtone on Sebastian's phone. Sebastian squints slightly, blinking at the screen of his iPhone; Daniel is the name spread across the screen. Sebastian’s face creases in confusion as he answers his phone, untangling himself from the blankets he’s wrapped himself in. He glances at his alarm clock, the bright green numbers stating that it’s two o’clock in the morning.  
  
“Hello?” Sebastian says sleepily. He wants nothing more to curl back under his covers and go back to sleep.  
  
“Seb, I need your help,” His boyfriend’s voice is sweet and pleading, Sebastian feels the warmth spread over his chest at the soft lilting Australian accent.  
  
“I was sleeping, Daniel,” Sebastian whines. “You woke me up,”  
  
“I know and I’m sorry, babe,” Dan says softly. “You know the party we’re going to tomorrow? Well, I kind of got talking to Checo about churros and I managed Christmas cookies…and well, I agreed to make three batches of them, but I completely forgot that I’d even agreed to it, and Checo just texted me and asked me how the baking was going-“  
  
“Three batches? But Dan, you burn cornflakes, how were you expecting to bake cookies?”  
  
Dan is silent for a moment, “Well, I was hoping that-“  
  
Sebastian sighs heavily. “Daniel, it’s two o’clock in the morning,”  
  
“Sebby, I’ll give you a blowjob if you come and bake cookies with me,”  
  
“I want more than a blowjob, Daniel.” Sebastian huffs.  
  
“Okay, okay, I’ll let you top for a week?” Dan says sweetly.  
  
“I’ll be over in half an hour,” Sebastian replies, putting down the phone. He sighs heavily, cursing his boyfriend’s big mouth as he goes to pull on some clothes from his bedroom floor.  


* * *

  
  
Dan looks relieved when Sebastian lets himself into his apartment; he’s wearing a little polka-dot apron, there’s biscuit batter on his cheek and there’s flour in his dark curls. There’s a bowl with half-finished batter in front of him, it’s all thick and lumpy. There’s a tray filled with burnt black cookies on the countertop.  
  
“Seb,” Dan says softly, accepting the small kiss that Sebastian presses to his cheek. Sebastian immediately gets out a clean mixing bowl. “Go and throw those burnt things you call biscuits out,” He directs Dan as he begins to measure out the flour onto the scales. Dan watches his boyfriend, his tongue beginning to poke out of his mouth as it always does when he’s trying to concentrate, his eyes still a little weary. Dan notices the slight smudges under Sebastian’s eyes and feels guilty at pulling him out of his bed. He’s wearing a loose t-shirt which looks familiar.  
  
“Hey, isn’t that my t-shirt?” He asks, smile curving over his lips.  
  
Sebastian fixes him with a glare. “Do you want to show your face at this party with these cookies or not?” He asks, weighing out the butter.  
  
“I’m sorry, Sebby, I didn’t want to tell Checo I was rubbish at baking, he looked happy that I was bringing cookies,” Dan says, as he attempts to crack one of the eggs. Sebastian glances at him for a moment.  
  
“Careful with that-“ The words die on his lips as Dan cracks the egg a little too hard making the egg white seep all over his fingers, the shell parts scattered across the table.  
  
“Sorry,” Dan looks sheepish. Sebastian directs his boyfriend towards the sink.  
  
“Wash your hands, and stay away from the eggs. You can make the frosting,” Sebastian directs. Dan watches his boyfriend crack two eggs into the bowl with one hand.  
  
“How can you even do that?”  
  
“My dad taught me how to bake, he’s pretty good at making cakes.” Sebastian says, as he folds the mixture together with a spoon. “Do you have a whisk?”  


* * *

  
  
Dan watches his boyfriend effortlessly cream together the ingredients, folding in the vanilla and the flour with ease. There’s no flour smeared across his cheeks, no egg yolk in his hair, he looks completely relaxed as he whisks the mixture until it begins to thicken. He takes it carefully in his hands and kneads it for a moment or two before he passes it to Dan.  
  
“Knead this well for me, it needs working,” He says.  
  
The dough is sticky in Dan’s hands. “But what if I screw up and it ends up on the ceiling,”  
  
“Then you can text Checo and tell him he’s only getting two batches of cookies, now knead it carefully whilst I whip up some more dough,”  


* * *

  
  
Dan watches Seb create another batch of dough whilst he kneads his own ball carefully. Sebastian hands him a tree shaped cutter halfway and tells him to begin cutting out the shapes ready for the oven.  
  
Dan glances at the dough perplexed, half of it is sticking to the rolling pin and it just won’t stay flat. It’s not as smooth and shiny anymore, half of it is sticking to his hands and the other half to the pin and the countertop. He curses his big mouth, he curses Checo’s smile and he curses the infamous party that happens every year.  
  
“Did you put some flour on the rolling pin?” Sebastian asks as he whisks the ingredients together.  
  
Dan bites his lip. “No? Should I?”  
  
“Well, unless you plan on making everyone eat the cookies off that rolling pin?” Sebastian asks.  
  
Dan shakes his head and sprinkles the flour over the rolling pin, before he begins to roll out the dough.  


* * *

  
  
Sebastian carefully slides the last tray of Christmas tree-shaped cookies into the oven and slumps against the door with relief.  
  
“Thank you so much, you’re a lifesaver,” Dan says, wrapping his arms around his tired boyfriend. Sebastian’s head rests against Dan’s chest, his eyes begin to close as he groans.  
  
“I’m so tired, next time, just buy them at the supermarket,” Sebastian stifles a yawn as Dan’s arms twist around his waist, the Australian’s lips press against the back of his neck.  
  
“Sebastian-“ Dan whispers, his breath ghosting against the blonde’s skin. His hands creep down Sebastian’s jeans, his fingers brush against his half-hard dick. “I missed you,”  
  
“Daniel, I’m tired,” Sebastian begins but he’s cut off as Dan’s hand slips underneath the waistband of his jeans, his cool fingers wrap around Sebastian’s dick, eliciting a gasp from the blonde German.  
  
“Daniel,” Sebastian hisses under his breath, as Dan’s lips fasten against the nape of his neck, his hand curving around Sebastian’s dick, his own dick pushing against Sebastian’s back. Sebastian lets out another moan as Dan begins to pump Sebastian’s dick through the thin cotton of his boxers, his teeth scraping against the pale skin.  
  
“I missed you,” Dan whispers as his tongue slides over the stubble, the sweat is salty on his tongue. His fingers continue to pump Sebastian’s dick, his thumb slides over the slit – it’s sticky and wet with come, Sebastian goes slightly lax in his arms. Dan continues to play with Sebastian, biting down on his neck, smiling at his name brushing past the blonde’s lips.  
  
“Me, you, bedroom, now,” Sebastian hisses, his eyes are dark, his lips are swollen from biting. He pushes Dan’s hands away.  
  
“But the cookies,” Dan begins.  
  
“Fuck the cookies, Daniel,” Sebastian purrs, pulling Dan into the bedroom by his t-shirt.  
  
“But what if they burn-“ Dan doesn’t get to finish his sentence as Sebastian’s lips press against his own, the blonde’s hand fisting into his t-shirt, his tongue is hot, wet and controlling. Dan allows Sebastian to press him up against the wall, his wrists held above his hand by Sebastian’s hands, Sebastian’s chest pressed against his own, their hips brush against each other.  
  
“Daniel,” Sebastian whispers as he moves in to capture the Australian’s lips, they seem to stick together, Sebastian tastes like vanilla; like he’s stolen a few bites of cookie dough. Sebastian presses his knee in between Dan’s thighs, his lips moving down to dance over Dan’s chin, over the stubble ghosting over his neck. Dan glances at him with darkened eyes; his teeth caught between his lips. He throws his head back as Sebastian’s tongue dips into his collarbone. Sebastian’s name forces its way past his lips making the blonde smile against the tanned neck.  
  
“Oh, god, Seb,” Dan whispers as Sebastian’s tongue runs over his collarbone, flicking over the bone. His half-hard cock presses against Dan, rutting against the taller man. Dan gasps at the sensation; his cock is sensitive, the come drying in the thin material of his boxers.  
  
“Did you miss me?” Sebastian whispers against his skin, their bodies connecting together, his eyes look almost black. “Tell me how much you missed me, Daniel,”  
  
Daniel is about to reply when he catches a scent he is familiar to; the smell of burning.  
  
“Shit, the cookies,” He whispers under his breath.  
  
“Mmmm, the cookies,” Sebastian repeats, his lips brushing over Dan’s neck.  
  
“No, Seb, they’re burning!” Dan rips his neck away and runs into the kitchen. Sebastian follows, annoyance on his face as he watches his boyfriend take the trays out of the oven. The first two batches are fine, but the last one are charred black. Dan and Sebastian take one look at the burnt offerings and burst out laughing.  
  


* * *

  
  
Checo grins widely as Dan presses the box of cookies into his hands, he glances over them, over the green frosting piped on by Dan’s expert hand the night before (Sebastian had ended up asleep on the couch, Dan had taken photos, he looked _adorable_.)  
  
“Merry Christmas, Checo,”  
  
“Thank you, wasn’t there supposed to be three batches?” Checo asks.  
  
Sebastian bites his lip, “Dan had some other stuff to do, I’m afraid,”  
  
“Like you,” Checo smirks. “Well, thanks for the cookies, Dan. I’d ask you to make doughnuts for mine and Hulk’s wedding but-“  
  
“Yes, he’ll be far too busy,” Seb cuts in. Dan’s cheeks turn pink as Sebastian’s hand tangles with his own.  



	15. Nativity (Lewis/Nico) (Baby Pascal)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lewis and Nico watch Pascal in the nativity and tell him stories of Christmases long ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kinda based on a prompt from Emma; Lewis and Nico spend their first Christmas with Pascal together.
> 
> I had a crappy couple of days at work and wrote this to make myself feel better, so if anyone feels crappy, I hope it cheers you up too. This is based off something that actually happened at work and the cutest little boy asked to be the special angel Gabriel. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Nico glances at his watch once more, he shuffles around in the small chair and looks up at the stage lit up before him. The children are seated on the floor before him; Pascal is sitting with his legs crossed, his shiny glittery wings that Lewis had spent hours making a few nights ago glitter in the lights. Nico is about to text his husband and find out where on earth he is when he hears a familiar British accent apologise as he brushes past the other parents. Lewis slides down into the seat next to Nico, the whiff of Hugo Boss aftershave is strong; he’s still dressed in his suit, smiling widely at his husband. Nico accepts the kiss that Lewis brushes against his cheek.  
  
“Where were you?” Nico hisses under his breath.  
  
“Toto wouldn’t stop talking, I kept telling him I had to go,” Lewis says, smiling and showing off the gap in his teeth. “I’m sorry,”  
  
“Well, you’re here now,” Nico says softly as Pascal spots Lewis and begins waving manically at his father, his wings glittering in the light, his smile wide. Nico feels the smile tug at his lips as Lewis waves back at their son.  
  
“I’m so glad we got his costume finished on time,” Lewis says, his fingers threading with Nico’s as the lights dim. Nico laughs a little; he remembers Pascal coming home from school, waving the letter in his face about him been picked to be Angel Gabriel.  
  
“He’s the head angel, Daddy. I asked Mr. Ricciardo especially,” Pascal says proudly.  
  
Nico remembers the smile that graced his face; he and Lewis had always encouraged Pascal to do whatever he wanted to do; he loved raiding the dress up box and borrowing Auntie Vivian’s jewellery (and some of Lewis’s too.). He feels like his heart is about to burst seeing his little boy standing up on the stage in his gold and white angel dress, his wings shimmering in the light, his halo lovingly made by Lewis glitters on top of his dark hair.  
  
Pascal gives his fathers a brief smile before he struts across the stage with a wide smile.  
  
“Is there a baby in there?” He asks the two children playing Mary and Joseph. They shake their heads. Nico pulls out his phone and begins taking photos of their son in his costume.  
  
“Well then, I guess I’ll wait here then,” He says, perching himself on the side of the stage. The audience laugh.

* * *

  
  
Pascal throws himself into Lewis’s arms after the performance, the glitter sticks to Lewis’s suit. “Daddy, did you see me? I was the angel,” He says, bouncing up and down in his father’s arms.  
  
“I saw you, Champ, me and Vati are so proud of you,” Lewis says, his smile wide as he ruffles his son’s hair.  
  
“Daddy, stop messing up my hair!” Pascal whines, squirming in Lewis’s grip.  
  
“That sounds familiar,” Lewis grins. Nico glares at his husband for a moment before his eyes fall on his son.  
  
“But Daddy, I asked Mr Ricciardo if I could be Gabriel next year and he said that he would have to think about it,” Pascal pouts, looking remarkably like somebody that Nico knows well; the man that he married a few years ago.  
  
“Aren’t you going to give your Vati a hug?” Lewis asks gently. Pascal looks at his father for a moment before he climbs out of Lewis’s arms and tugs at Nico’s shirt. Nico scoops up his son, blowing a raspberry into his son’s chest, smiling at Pascal’s laugh ringing out.  
  
“Vati, was I the best angel?” Pascal asks, his big brown eyes glancing at his father.  
  
“Of course you were,” Nico smiles. “Everyone was good, but you were better. You were the best angel and you remembered all your lines,”  
  
“I practised them for ages, do you remember Vati?” Nico nods thinking about all the times Pascal recited the lines in the bath, just as he was getting tucked into his bed, when he and Lewis were driving Pascal to school in the mornings. He presses a kiss to Pascal’s cheek and grins at Lewis.  
  
“Hey, what about we all go to Auntie Vivian’s for ice cream, best angel?” Lewis suggests and Pascal cheers loudly, jumping up and down in Nico’s arms.

* * *

  
  
“You need a bath, Champ,” Lewis says later that evening.  
  
“No,” Pascal pouts and folds his arms, he’s still wearing his angel costume and the shiny glittery wings. The glitter still sparkles in his thick, dark hair. He looks so remarkably like Nico, Lewis resists the urge to laugh.  
  
“What about if we put in a special bath bomb?” Lewis asks, smiling at his son.  
  
“Like the ones with glitter in them?” Pascal asks, his eyes suddenly wide.  
  
Lewis nods; Pascal loves glitter at the moment and Nico had bought him a lot of special bath bombs loaded with glitter a few weeks ago. Lewis opens the box and selects a bright purple one, handing it to his son. Pascal immediately sprints to the bath, full of hot water and drops the bath bomb into it. Lewis watches with a smile on his face as his son watches the bath bomb fizz around, exploding into the hot water; the bright purple spirals of glitter dance across the bath. Pascal watches transfixed, his fingers swirl around, touching the glitter and the water that is beginning to turn purple.  
  
“It’s like magic, Daddy,” Pascal says under his breath. He watches the bomb until it fizzles to nothing, leaving the bath water a bright shade of violet. Pascal immediately pulls off his angel dress and his wings, his brown eyes turn on his father.  
  
“Can I go in now? Will you come in the special bath with me?”  
  
Lewis smiles softly at his son and nods.  
  
Nico finds his husband and their son fifteen minutes later, drawn to the bathroom by Pascal’s loud laughs echoing down the hallway. He watches his husband, his hair wet, pulled upwards into a shark fin shape. Pascal giggles, his hands splashing in the purple water.  
  
“Daddy no!” Pascal squeals as Lewis ducks under the water again, his hair the only thing that is visible. Nico feels the smile creep across his face at the sight of his son’s smile, Lewis’s laugh as he surfaces and grabs hold of Pascal, blowing a raspberry against his hair.  
  
“Vati!” Pascal says, looking at his father. “You should come in the magic bath too,”  
  
“I already had a bath, little man, but I can read you a special bedtime story when you get out of the bath?”  
  
“Yay! Can you tell me the story of my first Christmas again?” Pascal pleads.  
  
“Pascal, you heard that so many times,”  
  
“I want to hear it again, and that time that you and Daddy got together,”

* * *

  
  
Pascal is tucked up into his bed, the glitter is finally gone from his hair, he’s wearing his favourite pyjamas; the ones that look like his father’s racing overalls. Nico brushes a kiss to Pascal’s forehead.  
  
“Okay, so which story do you want?”  
  
“My first Christmas and how you and Daddy got together,” Pascal says, his big brown eyes pleading.  
  
“But we got together long before we had you, Mausi.” Nico laughs.  
  
“Vati, please,” Pascal says, once more.  
  
“Okay, you were only two months old when Christmas came around and your daddy was so excited about you arriving, he’d already painted your nursery before we’d even found out if you were a boy or a girl. Then you arrived, you were a week earlier and we were worried about you but we were allowed to take you home. Christmas was coming and your daddy insisted on buying you all the best presents…”

* * *

  
  
_“Lewis, what on earth are these?” Nico asks his husband, wide eyed as he pulls out the box from underneath the bed. He opens the lid and sees a tiny pair of Timberland boots in the tissue paper._  
  
_“Pascal’s first pair of Timbs,”_  
  
_“Lewis,” Nico says in a warning voice. “He can’t even walk yet,”_  
  
_“But if we want him to have a good shoe collection, we best start him off early,” Lewis smiles, winking at his husband as he begins to wrap up the box._  
  
_“What’s in here?” Lewis asks, bringing a Mercedes bag out of the wardrobe. Nico bites his lip as Lewis glances in the box. “Are these-?” He says, smiling as he pulls out tiny versions of Nico’s teal driving boots._  
  
_“Dan bought them for him,” Nico’s cheeks are pink._  
  
_“They’re adorable, did you see the Mercedes onesie that Vivian bought us?” Lewis says, as he carefully places the boots back into the box. “Our son is going to have more shoes than you, Nico,”_  
  
_“Not more than you though,” Nico chides._  


* * *

  
  
_Lewis and Nico end up unwrapping all of Pascal’s new presents themselves; they unwrap some on Christmas Eve and some on Christmas Day. The two month old gurgles in Nico’s arms as Lewis proudly shows off his new presents one by one.  Lewis films the gift giving on his phone._  
  
_“Uncle Mika got you a Rolex to wear when you’re older,” Lewis says, holding up the box._  
  
_“Uncle Dan got you a Red Bull onesie and a little Red Bull blanket, not sure Toto will be happy about those,”_  
  
_“And look, at the present your grandma and grandpa Rosberg got you, look, it’s a blanket that Grandma knitted herself with your name on it,” Lewis unwraps it carefully, showing it to Pascal who yawns._  
  
_“He loves it, honestly,” Nico says to the camera._  


* * *

  
  
“Daddy, you can’t leave,” Pascal says, grabbing Nico’s sleeve. “You promised to tell me the story of you and Daddy getting together.  
  
“Well, we actually met in summer in Italy, Mausi.”  
  
“But you didn’t fall in love until the Christmas party,” Pascal argues.

* * *

  
  
_“Nico,” Lewis mutters as he catches sight of a familiar head of blonde hair. Nico spins around, showing off his wide, white smile. Lewis feels the fluttering sensation in his chest once more; he’s not felt it since he met those familiar green eyes. Nico is sitting outside, away from George Michael crooning about not giving his heart away, away from the Christmas tree and the trays of champagne. He sits by the side of the swimming pool, glancing at his own reflection. Lewis glances at the blonde, his shirt is slightly open, his feet are bare._  
  
_“Hey, sorry, I wanted to be alone,” Nico says, glancing up at Lewis._  
  
_“I can go if you want,” Lewis replies, biting his lip._  
  
_“No, please stay.” Nico says and Lewis nods, sitting down next to the blonde, their thighs brushing against one another._  
  
_“Why are you out here on your own at Christmas time?” Lewis asks softly._  
  
_“It was too busy and everyone’s happy and already they’re thinking about after the break. I just want to be a kid again sometimes, just leave all the expectations behind and just do what I want to do,”_  
  
_I know how you feel. You feel like the weight is on your shoulders constantly, like you can’t relax, like everybody is judging you,” Lewis pauses for a moment before he stands up and holds out his hand. Nico looks at him, confused. “C’mon, we’re going to leave the expectations behind,”_  
  
_“How?”_  
  
_“We’re going to jump in the pool,” Lewis grins widely as Nico’s hand grasps his own. “We’re going to forget everything, forget the karting, forget Formula One, forget Christmas and we’re going to jump in this pool and probably get colds from it,”_  
  
_Nico bites his lip. “But-“_  
  
_“Nico,” Lewis’s brown eyes lock with his own. “Trust me,”_  
  
_Nico nods, his fingers tightening around Lewis’s as they launch themselves into the pool, laughing as they hit the cold water._  


* * *

  
  
“Nico smiles softly and pulls the covers up around his sleeping son before he presses a kiss to his forehead.  
  
“Goodnight, Mausi,” He whispers.  
  
“That was a nice story,” Lewis’s voice says softly. Nico glances up to see his husband leaning in the doorway, smile playing on his lips. He’s wearing a Christmas jumper. “But I think some of the details were wrong-“  
  
“Really,” Nico walks over to his husband, green eyes locking on brown. “Care to tell me which parts were wrong?”  
  
“Well, you forgot to mention how angry your dad was when we walked in in wet clothes, and what happened when we went up to your room to change-“  
  
Nico smirks, pressing a gentle kiss to Lewis’s lips. “I hardly think telling our son about the first time we had sex is a good bedtime story, Lew,”  
  
“He has to learn sometime, what about when he asks where Jesus comes from?”  
  
“Please stop talking,” Nico whispers, silencing his husband with a kiss.  



	16. Together (Webber Family)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mitch tries to get Sebastian and Mark back together but his plan doesn't really work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based in my Webber family universe; basically Mark and Seb are not together, Seb is with Dan and Mark has custody of Mitch. For the prompt; Mitch asking for his parents to get back together. 
> 
> Apologies for the lateness of this fic, I'm having a torrid time at work and I can't even begin to consider writing when I have so much to do. I'll catch up this weekend, hopefully!
> 
> Enjoy!

Mark is tidying up Mitch’s bedroom; his son’s untidiness is inherited, but not from Mark; it makes the Australian think about when Sebastian would leave his clothes on the floor after a shower, Mark would often find a pair of the German’s boxers tucked on the floor underneath his bed. Mark tries not to think about the Sebastian before; the Sebastian that kissed him gently, that pressed him into the sheets, his blue eyes wide and trusting. That Sebastian is gone; gone just like he had from their lives, a few days after Christmas, a few days after Mitch was born. Sebastian had cradled their newborn son to his chest, before he’d written a note to Mark.  
  
_I can’t do this anymore, it’s not fair to you or to Mitch. I’m sorry._  
  
Mark, his heart still held by Sebastian, had allowed the blonde to be in Mitch’s life, but only as ‘Uncle Sebastian.’ However, naturally, as Mitch grew up and went to nursery, he came home asking lots of questions about his other parent. Where was his mom? Or his other daddy? Did he not love Mitch as much? Mark fought back tears, until one day, he decided that he couldn’t lie to his son anymore. He sat Mitch down on his knee and explained gently that Uncle Sebastian wasn’t exactly Mitch’s uncle, but his father. Mitch had gotten upset and he’d cried on his father’s shirt, he’d asked why Uncle Seb had left and Mark told him the truth.  
  
“Your papa Seb left because he didn’t love me anymore, mate,” Mark says sadly. Mitch glances up at his father with big brown eyes – the same ones Mark has – and hugs him tightly.  
  
“I’ll always love you, Daddy,”  
  


* * *

  
  
However, Mark noticed a change in Mitch after that, Mitch wanted to see more of Sebastian; it was to be expected, he wanted to see more of his father, but he wanted Sebastian to spend time with Mark too. It stung Mark to be around the man he had once loved, but he put the hurt behind him for Mitch’s sake. It was worth it to see the smile back on his son’s face, Mitch had asked Sebastian to come over and help him decorate the Christmas tree. The tree was finally upright, the branches were fluffed and Mark watched his son sitting on the floor, going through boxes of decorations with Sebastian. He giggles as Sebastian pulls out the red baubles and brushes over his face with the glitter clinging to the baubles.  
  
“Daddy, I don’t want the red ones yet, I want all the blue ones because that’s Daddy’s favourite colour,” Mitch says, pulling all the blue ones out and leaving them in a pile.  
  
Mark grins widely as Sebastian helps Mitch dress the Christmas tree, he even lifts Mitch up in his arms to place the silver star on the top. Mitch grins, pressing a kiss against Sebastian’s cheek before he giggles. Mark feels his heart melt.  
  
However, Mark is surprised when Sebastian turns up the day after, looking sheepish. He shows off his phone to a confused Mark, a text message sent from his phone is written across the screen.  
  
_Vati, come over and help us decorates the cookies please??_  
  
Lots of kisses follow the words. Mark fights back the smile that is spreading across his face as his eyes gloss over his son’s words.  
  
“I guess you better come in and help us decorate the cookies, the cookies that we need to make first,” Mark says, standing aside to let Sebastian in.  
  
“Vati! You’re here!” Mitch flies down the stairs as though summoned by his father’s presence. He flings himself at Sebastian’s legs and hugs them tightly, bouncing up and down on his heels, a wide grin on his face. “You came to decorate the cookies,”  
  
“I did, my little Kiwi,” Sebastian smiles as he strokes his son’s dark hair.  


* * *

  


Mitch ends up smearing flour on Sebastian’s face, giggling as his father grabs hold of him, tickling him on his tummy before he smears his own fingers over Mitch’s nose.  
  
“Daddy, save me!” Mitch declares, running towards his father.  
  
Mark holds out his arms but Mitch skids through his legs. Sebastian continues running towards their son but he slips on a piece of egg yolk that somehow ended up on the floor. His eyes widen as he feels himself falling towards the floor, he closes his eyes ready for the radiation of pain but it never comes…he falls into something soft. Sebastian glances up into concerned brown eyes, Mark’s hands are wrapped around his waist.  
  
Sebastian doesn’t say anything for a moment as he glances into Mark’s eyes; he feels his mouth go dry at the gold flecks in them, at the stubble on his jaw, the way it used to graze against his chin when he and Mark kissed, how his tongue felt brushing against his mouth.  
  
“Are you okay?” Mark asks after a moment.  
  
“I’m okay,” Sebastian says quietly, they glance at each other, brown eyes staring into blue.  
  
“Daddies!” Mitch breaks through the silence, he grins widely at his two fathers, a smirk on his lips that makes him look remarkably like Sebastian. Sebastian pulls himself away, his cheeks reddening with blush. Mitch looks almost disappointed, but it melts away when Mark takes their cookies out of the oven. He, Sebastian and Mark sit on the couch, the vanilla flavour bursting over their tongues as they watch Elf.  


* * *

  
Mark’s hand closes around a piece of paper, it pulls it out, frowning. It’s a little crumpled but it’s written in Mitch’s untidy scrawl, still forming letters carefully. He notices the picture first; it’s one of three stick figures, two have dark hair and the other has blonde hair. It looks like Sebastian, himself and the small one in the middle is clearly Mitch.  
However, it is the writing underneath that makes Mark’s heart start beating harder against his ribcage.  
  
_All I want for Christmas…_ is written in the teacher’s hand and underneath in Mitch’s handwriting are the words,  
__  
For my daddies to get back together.  
  
Suddenly, Mitch’s insistence on seeing Sebastian more become clearer. Mark carefully holds the paper in his hands and goes to call up the blonde.  


* * *

  
  
“Mitch, come and sit with me and Daddy,” Mark says carefully, patting the space in between himself and Sebastian. Mitch cocks his head and climbs up in between his fathers.  
  
“Am I in trouble?” He asks, his lip wobbling.

“Of course not, mate. Your dad and I just want to talk to you-“ Mark cuddles his son to him, stroking through his thick dark hair.  
  
“We found your note, little Kiwi,” Sebastian says softly. “About me and your dad getting back together,”  
  
“Are you going to get back together?” Mitch sounds hopeful.  
  
“What brought this about?” Sebastian asks, brushing back Mitch’s hair.  
  
“All the other kids at nursery asked me where my mom was and I told them that I have two daddies and they asked why you are never together,”  
  
“Sometimes, people don’t have to be together to be happy,” Mark says softly. “Your dad and I do love each other but we don’t want to be together, it doesn’t mean that we don’t love you and that we’re not a family. We’re a family and we always will be,” He presses a kiss to Mitch’s forehead.  
  
“I love your dad and I love you,” Sebastian whispers, his blue eyes locked on his son – their son – “Don’t worry about what other people think, Mitchy. We’re always here for you,”  
  
Mitch clings to Mark’s side, tears in his eyes.  
  
“Besides,” Sebastian grins widely. “I have a surprise for you. Our family is going to get bigger, you’re going to get a new brother soon,”  
  
Mitch’s eyes go wide and he glances between his fathers. “Uncle Dan and I are going to be daddies soon, Mitchy, you’re going to be a big brother,”  
  
“Can we call him Max?” Mitch bounces up and down. Sebastian laughs and ruffles Mitch’s hair. He and Mark glance at each other, knowingly and grin widely.  



	17. It Doesn't Have To Match (Carlos/Max)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carlos and Max meet at Max's brothers party, everyone seems intent on making them out to be a couple, a couple in Christmas jumpers, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on the prompt; We just met at a mutual friend’s holiday party but since we accidentally wore matching sweaters, everyone thinks we’re dating AU. Set in the universe where Mitch and Max are half brothers.
> 
> This isn't how I wanted but I'm still having problems with writing. I finished work today so hopefully, that will result in better quality fic. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Max isn’t usually a person for parties; he’s more of a stay at home sort of guy with a cup of hot tea and a good novel, but Mitch insisted that he come to his Christmas party. Max sighs as he watches the Kiwi in his tightest t-shirt; one that has mistletoe printed on the bottom half with white letters proclaiming ‘Kiss this’ with an arrow underneath. He moves around the people at the party with ease, throwing his arms around them, pressing kisses to their cheeks and their hair. Max pushes away the Kiwi, his bubbly accent in his ear, the strong scent of Hugo Boss cologne curls in his nostrils.  
  
“You came out of your cave, Maxy! I’m glad you’re here, little brother,” Mitch says, waggling his eyebrows. “Nice jumper by the way,”  
  
Max glances down, he forgot that he was wearing his Christmas jumper; it’s one that his father bought a few Christmases ago – it’s red and with a printed design – the words _Merry Christmas Ya Filthy_ _Animal_ emblazoned across his chest.  
Max bites his lip; he can’t see anyone else with a Christmas jumper on, yet on the invitation Mitch specified to wear one. Max sips from his cup of beer, trying to ignore the people dancing around drunkenly to Last Christmas. He contemplates leaving the party, he doesn’t know anyone and Mitch is so preoccupied with getting a kiss from Pascal, he wouldn’t notice Max had gone.  
  


* * *

 

He goes to refill his cup, his mouth suddenly dry, he’s moving away to the patio doors for some fresh air when he ends up walking into something soft. His drink sloshes onto a Christmas jumper; a white and red one with the words _Santa’s Biggest Ho_ written on the front, the white stained with red liquid. Max bites his lip and glances into dark brown eyes.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Max whispers, his eyes moving over mussed dark brown hair, over tanned fingers wrapped around a purple drink. The guy standing before him is beautiful; tall, dark and handsome.  
  
“It’s okay,” The guy smiles, his accent is different, he sounds almost Spanish, his mouth not familiar with the rounding of letters in English. “I guess you didn’t get the email that it wasn’t a Christmas jumper party either?”  
  
Max feels a smile curl at the corners of his lips. “No, well, this is my brother’s party so, I guess he wanted me to look stupid,”  
  
“Wait, you’re Mitch’s little brother?”  
  
“Yeah, I’m Max,” Max holds his hand out for the other guy to shake.  
  
“I’m a friend of your brothers, I’m Carlos,” The guy – Carlos – smiles widely as his fingers brush against Max’s, Max feels something twist in his stomach at the sensation of Carlos’s warm fingers against his own. They seem to linger for a moment longer, sparking warmth that spreads across Max’s chest, he feels the blush dance across his cheeks.  
  
“Nice jumper, by the way,” Max says, the blush still clinging to his cheeks.  
  
“I like yours, too. God, I hate parties, not that this one isn’t good…I’m just not a big party person,” Carlos says as he knocks back the alcohol in his cup. “I’d rather go out for a few drinks with friends,”  
  
“I’m not a big party person either, I’d rather be reading a book,”  
  
“I love books, what’s your favourite?” Carlos asks, his dark eyes lighting up.  
  
“I’m reading The Song of Achilles at the moment, I’m really into historical fiction at the moment,” Max says, unable to stop the smile spreading across his face. The animosity melts away into nothing; Max learns that Carlos is indeed Spanish, that he’s a few years older than himself, that his father is a racing driver and that he is an only child and he likes books, video games and spending time in Spain with his family.  
  
They’re deep in conversation about Ferrari and their position in Formula One when someone cuts in. “Oh Carlos!” The boy grins widely at Carlos, he has a Santa hat jammed on his head.  
  
“Jolyon,” Carlos says, biting his lip.  
  
The boy – Jolyon – glances between Carlos and Max, his eyes rove over their matching Christmas jumpers. “Oh, you’re dating each other? That is so cute, I was wondering when you were going to get over Dany, Carlos,”  
  
Carlos looks embarrassed and bites his lip. “Jolyon, Max and I aren’t dating,”  
  
“But the jumpers?” Jolyon says, glancing between the pair. “And you’re so close together?” Carlos glances at Max, their thighs are brushing, their fingers inches away from each other. They both pull apart, as though the other has burned their skin.  
  
“We’re not dating, Jolyon,” Carlos repeats, blush dancing over his cheeks. Max can’t help but think he looks adorable. Jolyon smirks in response and saunters away, giving Max a wink as he leaves.  


* * *

  
  
“I’m sorry about him,” Carlos says to Max immediately afterwards, he straightens his Christmas jumper. “I just split up with my long term boyfriend and he wants to set me up,”  
  
“It’s okay, my brother is determined to set me up with someone,” Max replies, finding a tug of something at his chest at the mention of Carlos having an ex-boyfriend.  
  
“Oh, Mitch has always been like that, he fancies himself as Cupid. He set me up with Dany, you know,”  
  
Max makes a noncommittal noise. “He’s an idiot sometimes, he does all this and he can’t even admit to Pascal that he fancies him,”  
  
“You noticed that too?” Carlos asks.  
  
“Of course, they’ve been pining for each other since Mitch was fourteen and he came home from school and he wouldn’t stop talking about Pascal,” Max rolls his eyes.  


* * *

  
  
“You two make the cutest couple.” Pascal says over the din of Mariah Carey.  
  
“Carlos, I’m so glad you found someone else,” Carmen smiles at the pair.  
  
“Max, you’re getting some!” Stoffel moves in for a fistpump. Max’s ears turn bright red.  


* * *

  
  
Max’s glance moves towards Mitch who is moving around the room, tinsel wound around his head, a glittery lipstick mark on his cheek. He spots the pair and moves towards them.  
  
“Are you having fun?” He asks, winking at Max. Max feels the blush dance over his neck and he hopes that Carlos hasn’t seen.  
  
“I guess,” Max finally answers.  
  
Mitch smirks and pulls out something from his waistband and dangles it in front of Max and Carlos. “Oh, would you look at that?” The smiles widens as he shakes the mistletoe, winking at the couple in their matching sweaters. “You have to kiss, you’re the only couple in here in matching outfits,”  
  
Max grits his teeth before he leans in and gently brushes his lips against Carlos’s. They are soft against his own, warm, slightly sticky but Carlos tastes like pineapples and mango, his stubble lightly brushes against Max’s smooth jaw. Max resists the urge to whine against Carlos’s mouth, knowing his big brother is still watching. He feels his hand fist into the thick knitted material of Carlos’s Christmas jumper to pull him closer. Carlos’s tongue brushes over his lips for a moment, it’s barely a feather touch, before they pull apart, glancing at each other. Carlos’s brown eyes stay locked on Max’s lips. Mitch smirks at the pair for a moment before he tucks the mistletoe back into his waistband.  
  
“That was adorable, I told you I’d find you a new boyfriend, Carlitos,” Mitch smirks. He disappears back to the party, tinsel shuffling as he moves.

“I hope that Pascal doesn’t give him a Christmas kiss,” Carlos says, rolling his eyes.  
   
“Should we get out of here?” Max grins widely as his fingers close back around Carlos’s jumper, tugging the Spaniard closer to him. Carlos nods, blush reddening his cheeks.  



	18. All I Want is You (Lewis/Sergio) (Mild Brocedes)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Checo finds himself falling in love with Lewis, Lewis tries to break free of Nico's chains.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a strange fic but I strangely enjoyed writing this one; I wanted to not show a happy ending, but not an overly sad one either. I suppose it's up to the reader who Lewis decides to be with, if anyone. It's always strange when I'm writing a pairing that isn't Brocedes with either Lewis or Nico with someone else, I always feel that their relationship is ingrained into their personalities no matter who they are with.
> 
> Based on a prompt: Checo comforting Lewis after he breaks up with Nico, and the fact I really wanted to write some Lewis/Checo. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Checo knew all about Lewis and Nico; their story was almost a myth, whispered in the paddock to new drivers who glanced at the two Mercedes drivers with questioning eyes. The story was always the same; Lewis and Nico had grown up together, they were fifteen when they met in Italy, Lewis overtook Nico on the last corner of the first race they competed in. However, after that the story changes somewhat. Some drivers like Felipe and Kimi are adamant that they had a fleeting relationship as teenagers; that they pressed each other into the sheets of their hotel beds, they made out on the track in Monza, that they used to love each other but it fizzled out. Others insisted that Nico and Lewis’s relationship had continued on through the years, that they still brushed their lips together, that their fingers lingered on one another when they shook hands, that the glances they gave each other were the ones that lovers exchanged. Checo remembers going to McLaren, he remembers asking Jenson to tell him the truth, the truth of what really happened between Lewis and Nico.  
  
Jenson’s answer doesn’t shed any light on the situation. “The only people who know what truly happened are Lewis and Nico,”  
  
Checo doesn’t raise the issue again, he watches the pair interact in the garage. Lewis grins widely at Nico, his hand pressing on his shoulder. Nico smiles back, Lewis’s hand lingers on the blonde’s shoulder. Checo can see the electricity between the pair; the pull between the two men in the matching white and teal overalls. He watches them become closer and closer; the grin on Lewis’s face grows wider at the sight of the blonde man, Checo watches them slowly but surely become stronger whilst McLaren flounder in the shadows.  
  


* * *

  
  
It’s at the annual driver’s Christmas party, after the 2012 season. Checo is on his way to the bathroom when he hears a moan close by. He bites his lip, hoping not to interrupt whoever it was (last time, it was Kimi and Romain, and Checo never wanted to see Kimi’s naked ass ever again, thank you very much). However, when he rounds the corner, he sees Lewis slammed up against the wall, his mouth wide open, his lips swollen presumably from kisses and his eyes closed. The other man has his back to Checo but there’s no debating who the longish blonde hair and the tight jeans belong to. Nico moans against Lewis’s throat, his tanned arms pressing against Lewis’s body.  
  
“I’ve missed you,” Nico whispers, his eyes locked on Lewis writhing underneath him.  
  
“Oh, god, Nico,” Lewis replies, his lips parting as Nico presses kisses to his neck. Checo turns on his heel and leaves the pair, he tries to ignore the warmth ghosting over his chest.  


* * *

 

  
However, Checo watches over the next year as Lewis and Nico grow further apart; the car that united them now forces the gulf between the lovers further apart. They look strained, Nico looks pale, Lewis looks thin, people overhear their arguments, the statements they make to the press regarding their relationship. Checo keeps his head down, he doesn’t listen to the press, he ignores the fact that Lewis and Nico don’t hug each other anymore; they’re cold, calculating, their relationship is a shadow of its former self, it’s just like everybody else’s now. Checo hates watching the two men sit next to each other; they are cold, they don’t brush fingers like they used to, they don’t look at each other like they used to. It’s the Christmas party again; Checo wonders where the years has gone as he stirs his tequila shot around, his hand is still covered in salt and there’s a dozen limes scattered on the bar around him.  
  
“Hey,” A familiar accent says at the side of him. Checo glances up into weary brown eyes. Lewis looks good; he’s finally beginning to grow his hair out, he’s wearing a white shirt with small black stripes and a dark pair of jeans. The diamond earrings shimmer in the light; he looks good but he holds an expression of sadness, of inner turmoil.  
  
“Hey, you okay?” Checo asks, he licks the salt off his hand, downs the tequila and squeezes the lime into his mouth. Lewis watches, brown eyes transfixed.  
  
“I’m okay,” Lewis says after a moment, his eyes seem to linger on Checo’s lips.  
  
“You look tired,” Checo comments as he signals for two shots of tequila, he figures that Lewis won’t be leaving anytime soon.  
  
“Just end of the season blues, I guess,” Lewis says, he looks drained in the sharp lights of the bar.  
  
“I thought a World Champion didn’t get sad?” Checo half jokes, but the laugh bubbling on his tongue dies as he sees Lewis look down at the floor. “I’m sorry,” He says gently. “I know you’ve been going through a tough time, everything with you and Nico-“  
  
Lewis’s head snaps up. “There’s nothing with me and Nico,” He says bluntly.  
  
“Right, Lewis, I believe you. Look, I caught you last year at the Christmas party, you and Nico, you were kissing,”  
  
Lewis’s eyes are dark. “Well, that’s over now. He decided I wasn’t good enough for him anymore, I was in the way of what he wanted,”  
  
Checo doesn’t say anything else. He just slides the shot of tequila over to Lewis. They both lock eyes as they lick the salt off their hands and down the bitter liquid in one. Checo feels his heart beating faster as Lewis’s lips close around his lime.  
  
Twenty minutes later, Checo is pressing Lewis up against the wall, his hands pressing Lewis’s wrists up, Lewis twists against him, whining, their lips collide over and over – it’s wet, sloppy and wild. Lewis tastes like tequila and sharp limes, he presses himself against Checo, his head thrown back, his lips parted. Checo’s hand fists into Lewis’s t-shirt, they kiss against the wall, to the sound of Michael Buble crooning in the main room.  
  
“Oh god, Sergio-“ Lewis whispers, his eyes are closed. Checo feels Lewis’s hard cock press against his thigh and he pulls away. Lewis looks at him with wide eyes, his hair is slightly mussed, his lips are wet and red from Checo’s kisses. He looks amazing and he’s willing but Checo looks at the Brit and all he can see is Nico, Lewis belongs with Nico, he’s supposed to kiss Nico’s lips, have Nico inside him, Nico’s teeth scraping against his neck.  
  
“We can’t,” Checo says after a moment. He leaves Lewis standing on the landing as he staggers away. He falls into bed that night and tries not to dream of brown eyes, of dark hair and skin, of Lewis’s parted lips, his name falling from them. He wakes up with wet boxers and a blush decorating his cheeks.  
  


* * *

  
  
He ignores Lewis for the most part of the season; they don’t usually stand next to each other on track parade, the organisers are obsessed with the idea of Lewis and Nico as the star crossed lovers so they make the Brit stand next to the blonde German, they salivate at the sight of them not acknowledging each other, of them ignoring each other, of the hurt on both men’s faces. Checo tries to stay in the background, to fade away, but at the Russian GP, that hope breaks with Nico’s throttle pedal. Checo ends up bringing his Force India home in third place. He whoops loudly, the victory washes over his bones, the warmth blossoms over his chest as he drives around the track, his fist in the air. However, it soon turns to panic as Lewis waits for him in the holding room, wide grin on his face as they hug warmly.  
  
“Congratulations,” Lewis whispers against Checo’s ear.  
  
Checo grins back, ignores his heart beating against his ribcage and pulls himself away to be congratulated by Sebastian. He feels awkward all through the press conference, he wonders if Nico is watching, with narrowed eyes, if he knows that he and Lewis shared a kiss at the last Christmas party. He stiffens as Lewis’s warm hand slides over his thigh. He grins wider, trying to ignore the warmth spreading over his skin at Lewis’s touch.  


* * *

  
  
It all changes at Mexico; the title is all but won, the trophy is already in Lewis’s hands, waiting to be presented to him. However, it’s Nico’s turn to bask in the glory, in the victory. He looks happy, ecstatic almost to be on the top step. He yells up into the warm air, the crowds shout his name, as they shout Checo’s. They’re at the after party; it’s at some nightclub, it’s smoky and dark and warm and Checo is slightly drunk. The fuzzy sensation crawls over his skin, tucks inside his bones, the black shirt he’s wearing feels too tight, the crowd too noisy. A hand steadies him slightly as he stands at the DJ booth, Lewis is grinning widely at him, he’s wearing an atrocious hoodie – some red and black checked thing with short sleeves – it suits him somehow. Checo stops caring that Nico’s there, that Hulk’s there, that everyone is watching and his hand curls around Lewis’s shoulder.  
Lewis’s hand also moves to pull Checo closer.  
  
“I’m sorry for leaving you alone last Christmas, I was so worried about what other people would think, what Nico would think-“ Checo slurs.  
  
Lewis laughs slightly. “Stop thinking about what Nico wants, think about what you want,”  
  
Checo smiles against Lewis’s neck. Lewis picks up the microphone and shouts out Checo’s name over the din of the electronica music. He presses the microphone at Checo’s mouth, Checo’s fingers slide over Lewis’s as he yells into the microphone at the top of his lungs. Lewis starts laughing, his hand moving to brush over his face, the gap in his teeth visible to Checo. The Mexican wants nothing more than to press his tongue over the gap, trace over Lewis’s lips, make the smile on the Brit’s face stay there forever. Checo’s hand stays on Lewis’s shoulder as he pushes a hand through his hair, grinning widely.  
  
“Checo’s in the house!” Lewis declares. Checo’s cheeks flush deep red as he laughs.  


* * *

  
  
Checo pulls Lewis into his hotel room and immediately presses Lewis against the door. Lewis moans against his mouth, his fingers ghost around Checo’s shoulders, his fingernails rake down the Mexican’s back. Checo pushes their lips together, his tongue tracing over Lewis’s lips. All thoughts of Nico finding out are gone as he presses their bodies together, rubbing himself up against Lewis’s body. His fingers run over the curves of Lewis’s body, fisting in that stupid hoodie – Lewis whispers Checo’s name under his breath as Checo’s hands move up to ghost over his stubble, over his hair fisting into the thick strands. Checo’s eyes are dark as he pulls Lewis over to the bed, pressing the Brit into the sheets. Lewis falls apart before him; his skin is dark against the white sheets.  


* * *

  
  
They meet up again in Abu Dhabi, they end up fucking in Lewis’s hotel room, Checo is pressed into the sheets, his name dangling from Lewis’s lips. Lewis goes off to France, he flies on promotional duties for Mercedes, he ends up at the Mercedes party. Checo looks at the photos and videos of Lewis and Nico talking and laughing, like they used to. Checo feels the dread close over his chest as he watches Lewis’s hand graze Nico’s shoulder, Nico looks at the Brit with the same fondness of previous years.   


* * *

  
  
It’s the Christmas party once again. Checo doesn’t drink tequila this time, he sticks to beer. It feels bitter against his tongue. A familiar voice appears from seemingly nowhere, one that Checo has heard calling out his name several times. Lewis is wearing a shit-eating grin and a shirt, but his tie is missing. He’s clutching a microphone in his hand and he’s slightly tipsy, if the constant giggling and swaying are anything to go by.  
  
“I don’t want a lot for Christmas, there is just one thing I need,” Lewis croons, closing his eyes and letting the music drift over him. There’s a Santa hat pushed on his hair.  
  
The crowd cheer. Checo glances around to find Nico, the blonde is standing at the bar with a shocked face and wide eyes.  
  
“Make my wish come true, all I want for Christmas is youuuu,” Lewis says as the crowd begin to clap along, Lewis wiggles slightly to the music. Checo watches as Lewis glances right at Nico for a moment, his eyes seem to soften and his grin widens. Checo takes a deep breath and looks away. The song finishes as quickly as it began.  


* * *

  
  
“Hello,” Lewis’s voice, like melted honey, appears from seemingly nowhere.  
  
“Lewis,” Checo says, smiling. “How are you?”  
  
“Tired as always, I’ll be glad for the time I can go and sleep in my own bed instead of a hotel,”  
  
“We need to talk,” Checo says, downing the dregs of his beer. He grimaces and glances at the Brit; Lewis looks confused, his eyes are light.  
  
“Okay? What do you want to talk about?”  
  
“Us, Lewis. I just…I can’t compete with Nico,”  
  
“Nico and I-“  
  
“Listen to me, I like you, I like you a lot. I mean, you’re amazing and you’re funny and I could see myself falling in love with you, Lewis. But you’re not over him, and I don’t know if you ever will be,”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Lewis says after a moment. “I’m sorry that I can’t stop myself from loving him, Checo, I think a part of me will always be his,”  
  
“Thank you for being honest about it,” Checo says softly, brushing his lips against Lewis’s cheek. Lewis smiles widely.  
  
“Merry Christmas, Lewis,”  
  
“Merry Christmas, Checo,”  



	19. Market (Christian/Toto and Family)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christian and Toto drag their teenage sons to the Christmas markets in London.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a weird fic but I'm sick of retooling it, so I'm going to post it. I know I'm behind with fic but I've had a crazy couple of days and I'm trying to get back into writing. Based on Emma's prompt of the boss otp taking their sons to the Christmas market and having crazy times.
> 
> Enjoy!

Christian misses Christmas when Sebastian and Dany were children, he misses Dany bouncing on the bed in the early hours of the morning, he misses Sebastian, slightly older but indulging in his little brother’s games as they both checked to see if the glass of milk had been drunk and the mince pie had been eaten. Christian misses the toys littering the floor, the torn shiny Christmas wrapping paper that he found a few days later when he cleaned the house, Toto panicking about peeling the potatoes and making sure that the turkey was basted correctly.  
  
However, it all changed. First, Sebastian grew up. He changed, he didn’t want to play with Dany as much anymore, he wasn’t content playing on the floor with Dany’s cars, he wanted to be on his phone constantly, texting his friends. Then he grew up, became a teenager – he went out partying at Christmas, put on his best shirt and went to town with Dan. He always went out on Christmas Eve and returned with lovebites and bruises sucked into his neck, with swollen lips, unable to be pulled out of bed before the late hours of the morning. Then Dany followed; Toto didn’t want him to – Dany was the baby of the family – and wanted him to be young forever. But Dany had to grow up, the toys were packed away, Dany begin reading novels. There were piles of them in his room, millions to be opened as Christmas presents. Dany didn’t go out as Sebastian did, but still, life in their household had changed irrevocably as Sebastian was always out with his new boyfriend and Dany had his nose in a book.  
  
Therefore, this year, Christian had taken matters into his own hands. He had booked a trip to London over Christmas – a family holiday he said, ignoring the glare of Sebastian – and insisted that both sons accompany their fathers on the holiday. Dany had buried his head into his latest novel for most of the train journey down to London, Sebastian had scowled at his mobile phone, tapping out what was presumably long angry messages to his good friend Daniel. Christian wonders if he made the right decision but he presses the thought to the back of his mind, his hand twines with his husbands. Toto gives him a sleepy smile as they watch the trees fly past on their way to London.

* * *

  
  
“We’re going to the Christmas markets,” Christian announces to the family, dragging Toto with him. “You have to experience it once in your life, darling,”  
  
“Christian, we could have taken the kids to Cologne for a proper German Christmas market experience,” Toto says under his breath. Christian shoots his husband a warning look. Sebastian sighs under his breath as he follows his parents out of their hotel room. He taps out another message to Dan, wishing that he could see his boyfriend, Dany follows, having left his novel on the bedside table.  
  
“Put your phone away, Sebastian,” Christian quips as he tugs Toto along with him. “C’mon, I’ll even buy everyone a traditional Currywurst,”  
  
“Dad, we got food poisoning the last time from one of those,” Sebastian says, his nose wrinkling.  
  
Christian pays no attention to his son’s prostrations as he orders four piping hot Currywursts. Toto smiles at his husband’s attempt to make him feel a little more at home.  
  
Dany takes one bite out of his and grimaces, trying not to choke. Sebastian spots his little brother’s frown, chewing on his own Currywurst.  
  
“Don’t you like it, Dany?” He teases.  
  
Dany shakes his head, handing the bread bun over to his big brother. Sebastian takes it with a wide grin, there’s a smear of ketchup on the corner of his lips. “You’re more used to paella, aren’t you?”  
  
Dany’s cheeks turn red at Sebastian’s words. “Shut up Seb,”  
  
“You’re embarrassed, bless you, was it my mention of a certain Spaniards paella?”  
  
Dany blushes darker but ignores his brother’s jibes.

 

* * *

 

  
“Christian, I hardly think we need any more windchimes, we have enough,” Toto insists, pulling his husband away from one of the stalls. Sebastian and Dany follow, hiding their laughs behind their hands. Dany follows Sebastian over to one of the hat stalls; he’s perusing some of the animal hats when something warm is tugged over his head. He spins around to see Sebastian grinning widely at him.  
  
“What?”  
  
“It suits you,” Sebastian says, pointing to the small mirror at the side of Dany. He’s clutching what looks like a koala hat in his hands. Dany glances at the hat on his head; it’s a fox, the eyes are bright green and the red fur clashes with Dany’s dark hair and pale skin.  
  
“I look like an idiot,” Dany says, wrenching the hat off his head.  
  
“But you’re shivering, Dany, you’re cold. Let me buy you a hat,” Sebastian says.  
  
Dany opens his mouth to argue but he realises that his shoulders are shaking. He mumbles under his breath as Sebastian grabs another hat – this one is a beanie with a bobble on the top, it’s navy. He pulls it onto Dany’s head.  
  
“That’s better,” He smiles. Dany glances at his reflection; the navy hat is more flattering on him than the fox one. He spots the koala hat again.  
  
“Who is the other hat for, Sebby?” He asks.  
  
Blush dances across Sebastian’s cheeks. “Nobody important,”  
  
“So it’s not for Dan?” Dany teases. “You do know I’m not stupid right?”  
  
“What do you mean?” Sebastian asks, looking confused.  
  
“I know that you and Dan are dating, that you’ve been dating for a few months and that you don’t know how to tell Dad about it,” Dany says.  
  
“How,” Sebastian begins.  
  
“And for the record, I think that Dan is good for you. I mean, he’s much nicer than that guy Mark you used to date. Dan is kind and sweet and he’s very funny,” Dany admits.  
  
“I’m glad you like him,” Sebastian says, unable to keep the smile off his face.  


* * *

  
  
“Do you think it will snow?” Dany asks, glancing up at the relatively clear sky. He sips on the hot chocolate that Sebastian had bought him.  
  
“I don’t think so,” Sebastian replies, wrinkling his nose as he looks up. The steam from his hot chocolate curls around his face.  
  
“I wish it would, like the Christmases we used to get in Germany,” Dany says softly.  
  
“I doubt it, little brother. Maybe we can persuade Papa to get Dad to take us there next year?”  
  
“Maybe,” Dany says, taking another sip as he glances at the giant Christmas tree in the middle of the market. He hates the fact that they won’t have a Christmas tree this year, they’ll be stuck in London over Christmas and he won’t wake up in his own bed and open the presents and have Christmas dinner at home.  
  
“So what’s the deal with you and Carlos then?” Sebastian changes the subject.  
  
“I’ll tell you about Carlos if you tell me about Dan,” Dany says, the blush flooding his cheeks.  
  
“So you like him,”  
  
“I guess so, I don’t think Dad would let me date until I’m like thirty though. He seems to like Carlos though,”  
  
“Well, as long as you’re not doing naughty things with him, Dany, you’re still a baby, remember that,”  
  
“Seb, I’m sixteen,”  
  
“Exactly, you’re a baby,” Sebastian says, downing the rest of his hot chocolate. “Lets go and find Dad, before Papa kills him,”

* * *

  
Sebastian and Dany find their fathers pressed up against the side of the beer hall kissing. There’s lots of bags surrounding them, their Papa’s hands are on their dad’s cheeks, twisting into his hair.  
  
“Dad,” Sebastian says, clearing his throat. Dany looks like he’s going to be sick.  
  
“Can’t you see we’re a little busy here?” Toto says, continuing to press his lips against his husband’s. Christian whines against him.  
  
“Papa, Dany is right here,” Sebastian hisses under his breath. Toto pauses for a moment, his dark eyes lock with his eldest son and he reluctantly pulls himself away from Christian. The Brit whines at the loss of contact, before his eyes land on his sons and the blush dances across his cheeks.  
  
“Oops, I hope you didn’t see too much,” Christian says, sheepishly.  
  
“Dad, I’m sixteen, Seb is an adult. We know all about kissing,” Dany says, folding his arms. “What did you buy anyways?”  
  
“A lot of candles, your father is in a romantic mood,” Toto says, laughing as Christian leans in and presses a kiss against his cheek.  
  
“You two are too embarrassing. C’mon, lets go back to the hotel,” Sebastian says, rolling his eyes.  
  
“You and Dany go, your father and I have some bonding time to catch up on,” Christian says, smirking at Toto.  
  
“Okay, if you wanted Date Night, I get the hint. C’mon Dany, we’ll go back to the hotel and order Christmas dinner on Dad’s credit card,” He smirks as he tugs Dany away. Dany doesn’t see Christian press himself against Toto, capturing his lips once more. Sebastian rolls his eyes and wonders if he and Dan would ever do that when they had children. He shakes his head and smiles. Dany stops as something white lands on the top of his nose. He glances up and tugs on Sebastian’s sleeve.  
  
“Look, Sebby, it’s snowing,” He grins widely. Sebastian smiles back.


	20. Sick (Seb & Dany)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian takes care of his sick little brother, Dany. He gets a little help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set in the universe that Dany and Seb are brothers. Sorry for lack of updates, I've been so busy with real life but I'm hoping to smash out some fics hopefully. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Sebastian raises an eyebrow as he pours cereal into his bowl. Dany isn’t in his usual place at the kitchen table, swinging his legs and chattering about the day ahead. Their parents are away on another business trip; Sebastian is on babysitting duty. He chews on his muesli, listening out for the strains of his brother stumbling into the shower or padding back and forth in his room to find the items of his school uniform on the floor. However, the house is silent, there are no footsteps, there is no sign of movement anywhere in the house.  
  
Sebastian finishes off his breakfast quickly before he begins to climb the stairs. Dany’s bedroom door is still closed, something which makes Sebastian’s face furrow in confusion. Dany only closes his bedroom door when he’s sleeping; in the mornings, it’s usually flung open and the teenager is inside hurriedly shoving on his school uniform. Sebastian carefully opens the door and peers inside the room. Dany’s bedroom is still in complete darkness, the curtains are still drawn and there’s heavy breathing from the lump still under the covers.  
  
Sebastian glances at his watch and frowns. Dany is going to be late if he doesn’t wake up. He moves closer to his little brother.  
  
“Dany, get up, you slept in,” He says.  
  
However, Dany doesn’t wake up, he still remains fast asleep under the covers. Sebastian glances at the lump under the covers with confusion, worry beginning to tug at him.  
  
“Dany, Daniil? C’mon wake up,” He pulls back the covers and shakes his little brother. It’s only when his hand makes contact with Dany’s shoulder, he feels how warm his little brother is. Sebastian looks carefully at Dany; his dark hair is matted with sweat and his usually pale face is flushed. Sebastian bites his lip and places his hand over Dany’s head, fever burns into his skin.  
  
Dany wakes up at the cool skin against his own; his eyes slowly open a crack, wincing at the light from the hallway. Dany groans under his breath, moving closer to Sebastian’s hand. Sebastian watches his little brother with worry in his eyes.  
  
“Dany?” He says, quietly. He rubs his hand over Dany’s sweat-covered hair.  
  
“Sebby?” Dany says, his lips are dry, he presses his tongue over them to wet them. “Did I oversleep?”  
  
“You’re staying home today, squirt. You’re sick,” Sebastian says, stroking Dany’s hair.  
  
Dany shakes his head and tries to sit upright. “I have to go in today…I have my important history presentation to do with Carlos,”  
  
“Squirt, you’re not going anywhere today except back to bed, you have to rest, Carlitos will understand,” Sebastian says, pressing his little brother back into the covers.  
  
“But we have to study for the big test too,” Dany pleads. “Sebby, please let me go to school,”  
  
Sebastian shakes his head. “You’re too sick to go to school, you’re going to take some meds and go back to sleep,” He runs his hand over Dany’s hair once more before he tucks the covers back around the teenager. “Get some rest, I’ll bring you something to ease your fever,”  
  
Sebastian eases himself off the bed and leaves Dany’s bedroom, closing the door behind him. He picks his phone out of his pocket and calls his boyfriend.  
  
“Hello, gorgeous,” Dan’s voice filters through the speaker. “I’ve just finished my shift,”  
  
“Dany’s sick. Dad and Papa are away and I don’t want to call them, I felt his head with my hand, he’s really warm,” Sebastian says quietly.  
  
Dan makes a sound for a moment. “I’ll come over and check him if you want?”

“But you’ve just been on an eight hour shift, you should go home and rest,” Sebastian chides.  
  
“I can rest in your bed and I have a spare pair of scrubs at your place. You’re not going to rest until you know what’s wrong with Dany, I know I’m still only a student but I’m very competent,”  
  
“Okay, okay, Nurse Ricciardo, come over,”  
  
Dan laughs.  


* * *

  
  
The Australian turns up in his bright navy scrubs and a wide grin. “I heard somebody needed a doctor?” He grins widely as he leans in to press a kiss to Sebastian’s lips.  
  
Sebastian laughs against his lips for a moment before he pulls away. “I gave him some meds an hour ago with some water, but his fever is still sky-high,”  
  
Dan nods and lets Sebastian lead him to his little brother’s room. Dany is fast asleep, curled into the covers. He hasn't moved much, his face is still flushed, his breathing light but laboured against the pillow. Dan gently shakes the sleeping teenager awake.  
  
“Dany,” He says carefully. “I need you to wake up so I can take your temperature, mate,”  
  
Dany slowly comes to, his hazel eyes falling open and blearily fixing on Dan. “Dan,” He slurs. “It hurts,”  
  
“I know, mate, I know, you can go back to sleep in a while, I just need to check you,” Dan says as he works out a thermometer from his bag and places it in Dany’s mouth.  
  
“Hold it under your tongue until it beeps,” He instructs. Sebastian watches the scene with interest, Dan seems to change, his gaze is nothing but a professional one as he takes in Dany’s flushed skin and glances into Dany’s ears with his penlight. The thermometer beeps and Dan takes it out of Dany’s mouth, the teenager curling closer to the nursing student.  
  
“I’m cold,” He whines, his body wracked with shivers.  
  
Dan frowns as he glances at the thermometer reading. “Your temperature is really high. It’s about 38c, which is pretty high. I think Dany has the flu,” Dan glances at Sebastian. “He needs some ibuprofen and I need a lightweight sheet for him, he’s covered in sweat,”  
  
“Will he be okay?” Sebastian asks, biting his lip.  
  
“It’s the flu, Sebby. He’s going to be fine, he just needs a lot of rest and fluids,” Dan says, smiling as he gently lowers Dany back down into the sheets. “You might need to change his pyjamas too,”

* * *

  
Sebastian carefully pulls his half asleep little brother out of his soggy pyjamas and into fresh ones, Dany’s skin is like fire against his own. Dany whines a little in his sleep and Sebastian bites his lip as he glances at his little brother. There’s a frantic knocking on the door and Sebastian frowns, hoping that it doesn’t wake up the teenager, but Dany continues slumbering against his big brother’s arm.  
  
He hears Dan’s footsteps open the door and a familiar voice break through the silence.  
  
“I heard Dany was sick,” Carlos’s voice filtered through the house.  Sebastian found a smile resting on his face at the sound of Dany’s best friend. He always thought there was more between the pair but he never pressed Dany, the fifteen year old got embarrassed when Sebastian questioned him about girls. Sebastian strokes Dany’s soft hair for a moment as Carlos slowly enters the room. His dark eyes fall on Dany.  
  
“Is he okay?” He asks, biting his lip, his eyes worried.  
  
“He’s got the flu,” Sebastian says, continuing to stroke Dany’s hair. “He’ll be okay,”  
  
“I brought some chicken soup, I made it myself-“ Carlos’s cheeks turn red and he glances at the floor. “Dan’s warming it up now, he said once that you always make chicken soup when he’s sick so,”  
  
Sebastian smiles widely. “Thanks Carlos, I’m sure he’ll try some of it,”  
  
Dan pokes his head around the doorframe. “Hey, Seb? I need your help with the soup,”  
  
Sebastian raises an eyebrow. “It’s chicken soup, Daniel, just heat it up in a pan-“  
  
“Sebastian,” Dan repeats. “I need your help,”  
  
Sebastian sighs heavily and carefully places the sleeping Dany back onto the fluffy pillows and grumbles as he leaves the room, leaving the door slightly ajar.  
  
“What was that about?” He hisses under his breath.  
  
“Seb, c’mon. The kid brought chicken soup over to Dany because he’s sick – homemade chicken soup,”  
  
Sebastian grumbles as he stirs the thick soup in the saucepan. It smelt delicious. “Exactly, wht does he want? Why is he bringing soup over?”  
  
“Seb,” Dan scolds. “They like each other, isn’t that obvious? I think it’s quite sweet, they remind me of us when we were that age,”  
  
“Dany isn’t dating anyone, Dan. He’s far too young,” Sebastian hisses, his eyes on the soup.  
  
Dan laughs. “You can’t keep him locked up forever, Sebby. He’s a young man and Carlos is a good kid. You gave me my first blowjob when I was fifteen,”  
  
Sebastian’s cheeks turn red. “That was different,”  
  
“How is that any different? You can’t smother him for all his life, Sebby. You can’t protect him from getting hurt,”  
  
“I know I can’t, I just…I still think of him as a baby you know?”  
  
“I know you do, but he’s not, he’s fifteen,” Dan says, watching his boyfriend spoon the soup into bowls. He carries one on a tray with some meds to Dany’s room but pauses in the door. Dany is sitting upright, he looks tired but he’s smiling at Carlos who is sitting at the side of him. Their hands are entwined. Dany spots Sebastian and immediately pulls his hand away, his cheeks turning bright red.  
  
“Soup?” Dany asks as Sebastian carefully places the tray down.  
  
“Soup, made by the newest Gordon Ramsey here,” Sebastian smiles as Dany dips the spoon into the broth and takes a spoonful, blowing on it.  
  
“Who?” Dany asks, drinking the soup.  
  
“Carlos made it,”  
  
Dany’s hazel eyes fix on the Spaniard, his cheeks are bright red. “You made this?”  
  
“It’s one of my Papa’s recipes. It’s awful isn’t it?” Carlos bites his lip.  
  
“It’s delicious, Carlos. Stop stressing,” Dany says as he takes another sip. “I’m sorry I wasn’t around to do the presentation,”  
  
“It’s okay, he said we could do it when you’re better. I also brought you the homework you missed,”  
  
Dany laughs. “You geek, but seriously, thank you for the soup, I feel better already,”

* * *

  
Dan drags Sebastian away to help clear up the chicken soup. Sebastian glares at his boyfriend and then at Dany’s open bedroom door.  
  
“Stop glaring at me,”  
  
“I will when you stop interfering,” Sebastian snaps back.  
  
“Sebby, I wasn’t interfering. You weren’t giving them any space at all,”  
  
Sebastian growls. “And I’m not giving them any now. Dany needs his meds,”  
  
“But he only had some an hour ago,” Dan argues but he drops his voice as he follows Sebastian to his brother’s bedroom door. They both enter the room to find Dany is fast asleep, his skin still red against the sheets. Carlos is sitting on the floor leaning against the bed, his head brushing the covers. He’s fast asleep, his hand cradling Dany’s carefully.  
  
Dan smiles at the pair. “They’re adorable,”  
  
Sebastian moves into the room but Dan’s hand suddenly snakes over his shoulder. “Don’t wake them up, they look peaceful. Let them sleep,”  
  
Sebastian sighs. “We can’t leave Carlos sleeping on the floor,”  
  
Dan nods. “We’ll put him in the guest room,” He moves over to the sleeping Spaniard and carefully picks him up, cradling the teenager in his arms. “He’s as light as a feather,”  
  
Sebastian glances at Dany, the fifteen year old’s face is rumpled slightly, his hand seems to search for Carlos’s warmth. Sebastian moves over to his brother and strokes his fingers over his hand softly. Dany settles back down as Sebastian watches his boyfriend carry the sleeping Carlos, his head pressed against Dan’s chest out of the room.

* * *

  
“They’re cute together,” Dan says as they tuck into the Chinese takeaway.  
  
“They’re not together,” Sebastian argues.  
  
“Seb, they were holding hands. There’s something there, did you hold Hulk’s hand when he was sick?”  
  
“No, he would have killed me,”  
  
“Exactly,” Dan looks smug. “Now I think it’s about time you and I got a little rest,”  
  
“But Dany-“  
  
“Dany will be fine, you need some sleep,” Dan’s hand curls around Sebastian’s shoulder, pulling him close. Sebastian feels his eyelids begin to close, Dan’s warmth guiding him to sleep. Dan looks down at Sebastian, at the dark smudges under his eyes and smiles widely.


	21. Mistletoe (Nico H/Sergio)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hulk finally gets Checo under the mistletoe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this is late, blame Emma to be honest. Based on the prompt; Hulkenrez and mistletoe. There's elements of Checo/Lewis in this, only like elements. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Checo can’t get a good grasp on Nico Hulkenberg. He watches the blonde smile widely at him, slip his hand around Checo’s shoulder as the camera flashes. He watches Hulk push back his long blonde hair from his face, watches him joke around with Sebastian, his hand on Jenson’s shoulder and sighs heavily. He tries not to watch Hulk when he’s getting strapped into his car, he tries to look at the screen in front of him and measure up the data but he’s drawn back to a pair of bright blue eyes, they’re locked on him.  
Checo feels his cheeks colour red as he tries to look away once more but the corner of Hulk’s lips quirk upwards a little as he slips on his helmet, he gives Checo a parting wink as he slaps down his visor. Checo exhales deeply, cursing the blonde German in his head. He pulls on his own helmet, trying to ignore the flutter in his chest.  
  
Checo keeps the blonde German at arms-length all season; he ignores the blonde’s friendly attempts to talk before races, he makes up excuses that he needs to run through the set-up of his car. He remembers the look on Hulk’s face as he hugs Lewis tightly after the Mexican race, they’re both drunk. All Checo can think about is how warm Lewis is, pressed up against his side. He giggles into dark skin, the smell of cologne swirls around his nostrils. He doesn’t notice the hurt blue eyes locking onto his form, he thinks only of dizziness and the warmth of Lewis.

* * *

  
They’re at the annual Christmas party – it’s a tradition that Checo dislikes, it’s just an excuse for most of the drivers to get drunk and randomly snog whichever warm body is nearest. Checo settles down in the back with his hand around a cool beer, he glances around the room; Carlos is up against the wall, Dany is pressing kisses into his neck; Sebastian and Dan have long gone, their hands twining together as Sebastian pulled the Australian out of the room with hungry eyes and Lewis is sitting next to Nico with a wide smile, his arm thrown carelessly over Nico’s shoulder, whispering into the blonde’s ear.  
  
“I’ve been looking for you,” A voice purrs into his ear. Checo glances into soft blue eyes and a wide smile greets him.  
  
“Why?” Checo asks, immediately suspicious.  
  
“Because I haven’t spoken to you in so long,” Hulk says, grinning widely.  
  
“Maybe there’s a reason for that,”  
  
“Don’t be like that, Perez. I know you love me really,” Hulk winks at the Mexican. Checo feels himself bristle at the gesture, ignoring the thud of his heartbeat.  
  
“If by love, you mean that you just annoy me,” Checo mutters under his breath.  
  
“Don’t be like that, Chi,” Hulk presses, smirking.  
  
“Don’t call me that,” Checo replies, glaring at the blonde. “Why are you even over here anyway?”

“I just wanted to see how you were doing, you haven’t seemed yourself recently. I thought we could be friends, like we used to be,” Hulk says, sadly.  
  
Checo tries not to think about the days gone past, when he and Checo were friendly with one another, when they weren’t driving for the same team, when it didn’t really matter. Now they’re like strangers, they have to be – they have to be like every other pair of drivers; they smile on the promo shots because they have to but they go home and they don’t talk, they can’t truly be friends.  
  
“Why can’t we be friends?” Hulk cocks his head.  
  
Checo realises he said his thoughts out loud. He feels the blush dance across his cheeks. “You weren’t supposed to hear that,”  
  
“I don’t want to be friends anyway, Checo,” Hulk says softly, stepping forward. Checo moves backwards until he hits the cold wall behind him. He glances at Hulk, the blonde man still towers over him, the smile on his voice has vanished. Checo finds himself missing it.  
  
“I saw you and Lewis in Mexico,” Hulk whispers. Checo finds himself shivering at the German’s low tone.  
  
“Nothing happened. He was lonely and so was I, we both wanted some company. We kissed, that was the only thing that happened,” Checo says, unsure if he’s trying to convince Hulk or himself. “Why don’t you want to be friends anyway?”  
  
Hulk cocks his head, a small smile curving at his lips. “You really don’t know?”  
  
“No, otherwise I wouldn’t ask,”  
  
“I like you, Checo, more than I probably should really. I really really like you and I’m sorry for telling you that, I know you hate me judging by some of your behaviour. I just…I’m tired of been afraid,” Hulk says, his blue eyes burning into Checo’s brown ones.  
  
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry for the way I treated you. I just…I couldn’t be the same person, the same friend I was to you before. Things have changed, Nico. I can’t-“  
  
“Checo, stop thinking about things,” Hulk says, his voice is still soft. He glances up and the smile spreads across his face. Checo glances up and spots the mistletoe hanging from the ceilng and his heart sinks.  
  
“Hulkenberg, no,” He says, glancing at the offending plant.  
  
Hulk quirks an eyebrow. “Checo, it’s mistletoe, it’s unlucky not to kiss. Do you really want to give me anymore bad luck?”  
  
Checo sighs heavily. “You did this on purpose,”  
  
“You think I came to the party early to put mistletoe up in this particular spot so you’d kiss me? Actually, that sounds like something I’d do,” Hulk says, the smile curving over his lips.  
  
Checo catches himself smiling back but it’s soon wiped away as Hulk ducks down, his face moving closer to Checo. He pauses for a moment, glancing into the dark brown eyes. Checo feels his breath hitch as Hulk glances at him carefully. Checo feels Hulk lean in closer, the ghost of his breath against his cheek as Hulk bends down to press his lips against Checo’s.  
  
They’re soft, warm, slightly chapped – they stick to Checo’s ever so slightly – Checo feels his eyes close for a moment, his hand moving to curl around Checo’s waist, his fingers are warm against the Mexican’s skin. Hulk whines against his lips, his teeth worrying Checo’s lip slightly, Checo feels his mouth fall open and Hulk’s tongue gently slides past his lips and probes his mouth carefully. Checo feels the hand tighten on his waist as Hulk’s tongue curls over his own, he moves closer, the exhale of breath is soft against his cheek.  
  
“Checo,” Hulk whispers against his mouth, his hand winds around Checo, pulling him closer. Checo realises that he’s kissing Hulk – he’s kissing his teammate, the guy he’s supposed to hate – he pulls away, staring at the man before him. Hulk looks a little surprised, his lips are wet and red from the kisses, his eyes wide.  
  
“Checo-“ Hulk repeats, it’s merely a whisper.  
  
Checo doesn’t reply, he stands up on his tiptoes, his hands moving to gently cup Hulk’s face. His stubble is rough against his palms. Hulk’s blue eyes widen as Checo leans in and presses his lips against Hulk’s once more. They kiss for a moment, Checo’s hands on Hulk’s face, Hulk’s arms tightening around the Mexican’s waist as their lips dance over each other, tracing, committing to memory.  
  
“I don’t understand,” Hulk murmurs against his lips.  
  
“It’s mistletoe. We don’t want any more bad luck, do we?”  
  
Hulk smiles against his lips. He mentally congratulates himself for sticking that particular branch of mistletoe there, it was worth it to kiss Checo’s lips.


	22. Not Together (Lewis/Nico)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nico invites Lewis to his parents house for Christmas. However, it doesn't take long before everybody is asking questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas guys! This might be my last fic before Christmas Day (I'm going to try and get another up tonight, but I have a lot to do understandably.) Thank you for all the support over the last few months, I'm pleased to hear that so many of you have enjoyed my fics. 
> 
>  
> 
> Based on the prompt; You didn’t have anywhere to go for the holidays, so I invited you to come home with me as friends but my parents now think we’re dating AU
> 
> Enjoy!

_Sorry, darling. I’m spending Christmas in Spain with Ray this year. Aren’t you going to Grenada with your dad and Nic? Have a wonderful time, I love you._  
  
Lewis looks down at the text message, a frown furrowing his features. He’d texted his mum to ask her about their Christmas plans. He pushes away the lump in his chest at the thought of not spending Christmas with his mum, the thought of her in Spain on a sunny balcony with Ray, tanning herself with a cocktail in her hand. It seemed wrong somehow. He bites his lip as he resists the urge to reply; he doesn’t have anything against Ray, his stepfather is a nice enough guy but he wonders if he pushed her into leaving England for Christmas.  
  
He resists the urge to text his dad; he’d declined to go to Grenada with his father and Nic, not wanting his mother to be alone on Christmas Day. He could still order a ticket but he doesn’t want to, it still feels wrong somehow.  
  
“Are you alright?” A familiar voice pipes up. Lewis snaps his attention away from his phone to worried green eyes.  
  
“I’m fine, Nico,” He says, pushing a hand through his short, dark hair. “I just…I found out my mum is spending Christmas in Spain with my stepdad. I think they’re having a romantic holiday,” He grimaces.  
  
“What about your dad and Nic?”  
  
“Dad is taking Nic to Grenada for the holidays, I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want my mum to be alone,” Lewis bites his lip, glancing at his phone. He doesn’t know how to respond; he wants his mum to have a nice time in Spain, she’s probably packing her suitcase right now, chattering to Ray as she tosses her dresses and sandals into it.  
  
“Why don’t you come to mine? My mum hasn’t seen you in so long,” Nico asks quietly, glancing at Lewis.  
  
“Nico, I couldn’t impose on you at Christmas-“ Lewis begins.  
  
“Lew, seriously, my mum would hate the fact that you’re alone at Christmas. It won’t be a problem, I’d be glad to have you over too,” Nico says, his cheeks turning a little pink.  
  
“You’d do that?” Lewis asks, his voice filled with disbelief. “But we’ve drifted apart recently with everything going on…”  
  
“Lewis, just come to my parents for Christmas, it’s fine. Vivian is bringing her girlfriend anyway, so you won’t be the only person there who isn’t family, besides, you’re practically family. My mum will just feed you.”  
  
“Vivian has a girlfriend?” Lewis cuts in, his eyes wide. He thinks about the blonde, it’s been a year or two since he saw Nico’s twin sister; he wonders how much she’s changed, he always remembers the young girl with long white-blonde hair, clinging to Sina’s arm, blushing wildly when Lewis smiled at her.  
  
Nico nods once. “Yeah, her and Jess have been going out for a while, but that doesn’t matter. Do you want to come? I’ll call my mum and tell her,”  
  
Lewis smiles widely. “Thanks man, I wasn’t looking forward to spending Christmas alone,”  
  
Nico finds a smile creeping over his lips. 

* * *

  
Lewis bites his lip as he glances at the Rosberg household; it hasn’t changed much since he spent a few summers here, it looks just about the same – the gardens are still manicured by a gardener no least and the windows gleam. Keke and Sina stand on the doorstep, waiting for Nico’s Mercedes to pull up onto the driveway. Lewis glances at Nico’s parents; there’s a few more lines around Sina’s eyes and a few more grey hairs around Keke’s temples but other than that, they haven’t changed much – Sina still looks coiffed as ever, her blonde hair shining in the dim light.  
  
“Lewis,” She says softly, her lips pulling into a smile as she steps forward, enveloping him into a hug. Lewis sighs as his head falls against the crook of her shoulder, the smell of Chanel Number Five, Sina’s favourite perfume, curls around his nostrils. “It’s good to see you,”  
  
“It’s good to see you too,” Lewis whispers back, as they pull apart. He bites his lip, watching Nico move forwards, Sina pressing her son into a hug, her lips dancing over his cheek, leaving a lipstick mark on his pale skin.  
  
“Mum,” Nico protests, trying to wipe away the mark.  
  
“I’m sorry, I’ve missed you darling. You should come back and see me sometimes, you could bring Lewis too. He needs feeding up, he’s getting thin again,” Sina says as she pulls away from Nico, eyeing Lewis critically.  
  
“Mum, stop it,” Nico says.  
  
“Your mother’s right, Nico. Lewis here could use with a bit of meat on his bones,” Keke cuts in, his steel blue eyes fixed on the Brit. “Nice to see you again, son,”  
  
Lewis nods, giving the Finnish man a small smile. “Nice to see you again, Sir,”  
  
Keke laughs. “Lewis, it’s Keke now. I’m not your boss anymore,”  
  
Lewis nods, ignoring the blush dancing over the collar of his shirt. “Of course, thank you for having me at Christmas, Keke,”  
  
“It’s no worry, we have Vivian and her partner here too,” Sina cuts in, smiling widely. “I wanted them to come and welcome you but they’re still unpacking, I didn’t make up the spare room, I figured-”  
  
Nico and Lewis glance at each other, smirking slightly.  


* * *

  
Nico tugs Lewis towards the stairs. Lewis tries to ignore how good Nico’s hand feels against his own, like it’s supposed to be there. Lewis glances around the hallway, at the giant Christmas tree sitting in its pride of place in the middle, the baubles are shiny and the lights are twinkling.  
  
“Where are you going boys?” Sina asks, her brown eyes land on Nico and Lewis’s entwined hands.  
  
“We’re just going to say hello to Vivian and Jess,” Nico says, not letting go of Lewis’s hand.  
  
Sina nods, watching the pair continue up the stairs, their hands still brushed together. She smiles knowingly. Nico tugs Lewis along the corridor, pressing a finger against his lips. He can’t hear any noises coming from Vivian’s door. Lewis is about to protest when Nico’s other hand grabs the door handle and tugs the door open.  
  
“I know what you’re doing in here, Vivian Erika Rosberg!” Nico shouts out, smirking widely.  
  
“Nico!” Vivian yells out from her large double bed, her hair is tousled and her bra is showing. Jess pops up from behind her, grinning widely, her t-shirt is rumpled and there’s a lovebite on her neck. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”  
  
“Unpacking Jess’s underwear by any chance?” Nico asks, grinning. He ducks as Vivian throws one of her pillows at him.  
  
“God, haven’t you got better things to do,” Vivian mutters before her brown eyes fix on Lewis. “Lewis?”  
  
“Hello, Vivi-“ Lewis begins but he doesn’t get to finish his sentence as Vivian throws her arms around him, laughing into his ear. He smiles as her soft blonde hair tickles his cheek.  
  
“I missed you,” Vivian murmurs thickly against his neck before she pulls away. “Where on earth have you been, Lewis Hamilton?”  
  
“Racing, where have you been? Finding beautiful women to date,” Lewis feels the smile dance across his lips.  
  
“Sorry,” Vivian says, pulling the other girl forward. She’s beautiful; her long dark hair falls in waves around her face and she smiles widely at Lewis. “This is my girlfriend, Jess. Jess, this is my best friend, Lewis,”  
  
“I thought I was your best friend?” Nico says, glancing at Lewis. Lewis bites his lip and doesn’t say anything.  
  
“It’s nice to meet you, Jess, I’m glad that Vivian has got someone special in her life,” Lewis says.  
  
Jess smiles. “I’m glad Nico found someone too,”  
  
Lewis glances at her in confusion. “What?” He doesn’t look at Nico, he looks at his shoes, trying to ignore the blush spreading over his cheeks.  
  
“You and Nico are dating, aren’t you?” Jess looks confused, glancing at Vivian. “You seem very close, and you were holding hands when you came in, I assumed-“  
  
“It’s fine, Jess,” Nico says, laughing lightly. “We’re not dating though,”  
  
Jess nods, biting her lip. “I’m sorry to assume-“  
  
“It’s okay, everyone thought they were fucking when they were fifteen too,” Vivian says grinning.  
  
“Vivian!” Nico says, blush dancing across his pale skin.  
  
  


* * *

  
“I can’t believe Jess thought we were dating,” Lewis says, he’s lying down on Nico’s bed watching the blonde unpack some of his clothes into his dresser. “Could you imagine?”  
  
“No,” Nico says after a moment, he looks awkward, his teeth caught between his lip. “I couldn’t imagine dating you, you still hog the bedsheets like you used to?”  
  
“I never hogged the bedsheets, man, that’s a lie,” Lewis says as he looks around Nico’s room – it’s the same as it always was, the walls are still the light green they were as teenagers, the bed is still huge, piled high with pillows. The Finnish flag is still hung up above Nico’s mirror.  
  
“Yes, you did, you used to hog my bed all the time,” Nico says, sliding onto the bed next to Lewis, his hand curling around one of the pillows.  
  
“It’s weird been back here,” Lewis says quietly, glancing around.  
  
“Why do you say that?”  
  
“Everything has changed; your parents are older, your sister’s a lesbian and you’ve changed too…you cut your hair and got some muscles,” Lewis says, trying not to look at the blonde. Nico’s hand moves to brush over Lewis’s.  
  
“Is that a bad thing?”  
  
Lewis glances into Nico’s dark green eyes, he can’t tear himself away. “I-“  
  
He doesn’t get to finish his sentence as Nico leans in and brushes their lips together. Nico tastes exactly how Lewis remembers – a sort of fruity, sweet taste – his lips are soft, slightly chapped from the cold but it feels familiar, like home to Lewis. He moans against Nico’s mouth as the blonde folds himself against the Brit, their lips colliding together, their tongues follow. Lewis melts against Nico’s mouth, his hand moving to curl through the soft blonde hair, Nico’s hands moving to cup Lewis’s ass. Lewis whines Nico’s name, making the blonde smile as his tongue traces over Lewis’s mouth.  
  
“Nico! Lewis!” Sina yells out from the landing.  
  
The two immediately untangle, glancing at each other and panting lightly. Brown eyes hang on green ones. “Did we just?” Nico says, his lips are still wet, they tingle slightly.  
  
“That’s not the first time we kissed, Nico,” Lewis says, raising an eyebrow.  
  
Nico pulls his hand away. “We need to talk about this, talk about what just happened,”  
  
“Nico, calm down, it was just a kiss,” Lewis says, smoothing down his hair.  
  
“It wasn’t just a kiss, Lewis-“ However, before Nico can continue, Sina’s voice calls out his name once more.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
They’re all sitting around the table for the annual Christmas Eve meal. Lewis glances at all the food, the ham is huge, piled up besides a dish of freshly roasted potatoes and steaming butter-covered vegetables.  
  
“It looks amazing, Sina,” Lewis says, smiling at the woman. Sina smiles widely as she claps her hands together. “Okay, Keke, get carving up the roast ham,”  
  
“So, when did you and Nico get together, Lewis?” Sina asks as she spears one of her sprouts on her fork.  
  
Lewis feels himself choke on the ham in his mouth. Nico slaps him on the back, worry in his eyes as Lewis spits the piece of food into his napkin.  
  
“I’d ask Nico, but he’s so secretive about these things,” Sina says, cutting up her ham. “I once asked him when you were younger but he just went bright red-“  
  
“Mum,” Nico chokes out.  
  
Vivian smirks at him from across the table. “It’s okay, Nico. You don’t need to be embarrassed, we’re all family here,”  
  
Nico bites his lip and kicks his twin sister under the table. “Mum, me and Lewis aren’t dating,”  
  
“But you invited him over for Christmas? Nico, it’s okay to admit you’re dating, stop been embarrassed about it. Your father and I knew you were bisexual years ago-“  
  
Nico nearly spits out his wine. “What? Mum, we’re not discussing my sexuality over our Christmas dinner,”  
  
Sina nods once. “I’m just saying that it’s okay to admit to us that you’re dating a man. Your father once kissed a few of the guys in the paddock back in the day-“  
  
“We’re not discussing this right now. I don’t want to talk about my dad snogging James Hunt or Nigel Mansell over dinner,” Nico says, before he spears a piece of broccoli. Lewis has turned bright red and shovels the mashed potato into his mouth. Vivian smirks at the pair of them. Nico feels a warm hand grasp his thigh at the end of the meal, he pushes it away as nonchalantly as he can. Lewis gives him a hurt look.  
  
  


* * *

  
Nico slips into his bedroom after dinner to find Lewis throwing his stuff back into his suitcase.  
  
“What are you doing?” Nico asks, looking confused.  
  
“I’m going to go and stay in the spare room,” Lewis says. “You’re obviously not too comfortable with me staying here,”  
  
“Lewis-“  
  
“Nico, it’s okay. I thought that you were okay with me staying here with you but you’re obviously not, I’ll go and stay in the spare room,” Lewis stands up.  
  
Nico grabs hold of Lewis’s hand. “Don’t go, please,” His fingers wind around Lewis’s own warm ones, his eyes glance into Lewis’s. Lewis is wearing one of his Christmas jumpers – the sight of the knitted snowman makes Nico smile.  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Because I want you to stay here,” Nico says softly. “I want you here with me,”

 “But-“  
  
“I’m sorry, I was afraid,” Nico whispers, his fingers still twined with Lewis’s. “I just didn’t know what to say,”  
  
“What are you afraid of?” Lewis asks, his eyes almost dark. “Are you afraid of me?”  
  
“I’m afraid of my feelings for you, I don’t trust myself around you. I guess the reason I overreacted out there is because I’m afraid, I was afraid of you rejecting me, not finding me good enough to be in a relationship with…”  
  
“Nico,” Lewis says, “You would always be good enough, you know that.” His hands curls over Nico’s and he leans in, his breath ghosting over Nico’s cheek. “Stop thinking about what everyone else is thinking and tell me what you want,”  
  
“I want you,” Nico says as he presses their lips together, his hand fisting into Lewis’s jumper.  
  
Vivian and Jess watch from the ajar door with smiles on their faces. “It’s about time…” Vivian mutters, smiling as Jess presses a kiss to her cheek.  
  



	23. First Snow (Alonso-Button Family)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fernando and Jenson get used to traditional Christmases with their son. Carlos sees his first ever snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't expecting this to be done, but have another! This is based off the prompt; Carlos and his first snow. It's based on the concept of Carlos being Fernando and Jenson's son, it's a little shorter. 
> 
> Enjoy! :)

Fernando isn’t used to cold Christmases, he’s used to Christmas in Spain; basking in the sunshine, having a glass of champagne on the balcony; sometimes he’d go to the beach close to his apartment and go for a Christmas swim. However, this year is different. He and Jenson have been together for a long time and they’ve usually chosen to go on holiday near Christmas – they usually went to warm and exotic places, ended up going scuba diving on Christmas morning in Australia, quad biking in Dubai and drinking Christmas cocktails. However, it all changed when their son Carlos was born. Jenson was reluctant to go on holiday with their son been so young, he wanted him to grow up knowing all the traditions that Jenson had himself.  
  
Therefore, the holidays were replaced with trips to the local shopping centre, returning home later that evening laden with bags. Fernando remembers dragging the first Christmas tree they’d ever bought into the lounge. Jenson’s blue eyes had lit up when they’d seen it, Carlos fast asleep tucked up under his red blanket. He’s oblivious to his father’s excitement, despite Jenson walking around the tree marvelling at the lights strewn on the floor, the baubles in little boxes ready to be placed on the branches. Carlos sleeps on, unaware.  
  
However, as he grows up, Carlos grows to love Christmas as much as his father. He giggles in Jenson’s arms as they place out the mince pie and glass of milk for Santa, a carrot for the reindeer. Fernando smiles widely at the sight of his son tucked up in Jenson’s arms, the excitement evident on his face. Christmas morning is even better; Carlos jumping up and down on their bed to wake his parents up. Fernando ignores the flashing numbers of his alarm clock and watches his son’s excited face. Carlos tears into his presents with eager eyes, yelling loudly as he pulls the paper away.  
  
“Look Papa, Santa got me a remote control car!” Carlos yells, bouncing up and down on his heels.  
  
“I can see that, Carlos,” Fernando says, grinning widely.  


* * *

  
The next year, Carlos goes to nursery and he ends up been the star in the Christmas nativity. Fernando feels the pride surge through him as he watches his little boy stand up on the stage in his little golden star outfit, a halo of gold tinsel on top of his head. He waves at his fathers as he stands on the stage proudly. Fernando takes lots of photos of Carlos in his outfit – he wonders if Carlos will appreciate the photos on his cake when he turns eighteen.  
  
They’re strapping Carlos into his car seat when Carlos’s face suddenly pulls itself into a frown.  
  
“Papa, what’s that?” Carlos asks, pointing out of the door.  
  
Fernando follows his son’s gaze but he doesn’t see anything out of the ordinary. He continues fixing Carlos’s seatbelt into place. “I can’t see anything, cub,”  
  
“There, Papa! That white stuff, what is it? Is it falling from the sky?”  
  
Fernando realises that snow is lightly falling, the shoulders of his coat and the tips of his hair are covered in a thin white sheet. Carlos glances at it with interest, his hand moves forward to tug through Fernando’s hair. Fernando catches himself before he scolds his son – he had forgotten that Carlos had never seen snow before.  
  
“It’s wet, Papa,” Carlos’s nose scrunches up slightly as he wipes his hand on his coat. “Why is it wet?”  
  
“It’s snow, Carlos. It only snows when it’s very very cold,” Fernando explains carefully as he watches Jenson scrape the thin white sheet of snow from their car windowscreen.  
  
“So it’s very cold right now?” Carlos asks, shivering slightly as he says it.  
  
“It only snows like this when it’s very cold and usually around Christmas,”  
  
“But Papa, Santa isn’t coming for another week. What if all the snow is gone by then?” Carlos asks as Fernando checks the seatbelt one last time before he slides himself into the driver’s seat.  
  
“Don’t worry, little man,” Jenson says to his son as he slides into his own seat. “If Santa wants snow on Christmas, he will make it snow and we can make a snowman when we get home?”  
  
“What’s a snowman Daddy?” Carlos asks, his eyes are wide.  
  
“A man made entirely of snow,”  
  
Carlos bounces up and down in his seat, his nose pressed up against the window as he watches the snow fall. 

* * *

  
The camera flashes once more. Carlos stomps around the garden in his wellington boots and his thick coat. The snowman, lovingly nicknamed Jose, stands proudly next to the window – one of the carrots from the Christmas dinner serves as a nose and Jenson’s scarf is wrapped around his neck. Jenson laughs as he watches Carlos fling himself into the snow like Jenson just did on the patio, making a sweeping beautiful snow angel.  
  
“It’s cold,” Carlos says, a slight whine in his voice.  
  
“Who does that sound like?” Fernando winks at his husband as he scoops up his son and cuddles him close. Jenson shakes his head and moves over to brush a quick kiss against Fernando’s cheek.  
  
“I have no idea,” Jenson replies. “So what do you think of the snow, Carlos?”  
  
“I like it,” Carlos says, his head buried against Fernando’s chest. “But I’m cold now,”  
  
“How about a hot chocolate?” Fernando suggests.  
  
He rolls his eyes as both Carlos and Jenson cheer loudly in approval.


	24. Boyfriend (Dany/Carlos) (Fernando/Jenson)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carlos brings home Dany for Christmas. Fernando isn't impressed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone had a brilliant Christmas! This fic is a little weird because I wanted to write something but it's not very Christmassy, it's loosely based off something that happened in my family this Christmas though. Jenson and Fernando are together and Carlos is their teenage son.
> 
> Enjoy! :)

Fernando checks his watch again for the twentieth time. Carlos is late; later than he said he would be, and Fernando can’t help but worry about his only son.  
  
“Stop worrying about him,” The familiar smoky voice of his husband curls around his ear, Jenson’s arms press themselves around the smaller man. “You know what traffic is like at Christmas,”  
  
“But he usually calls when he’s going to be late,” Fernando says. “What if he crashed his car and-“  
  
“Nando,” Jenson says softly. “Stop worrying about Carlos, he’s probably on his way right now,” He presses a kiss to Fernando’s stubbled cheek, smoothing out the knots from his husband’s shoulders. “You stress out far too much at Christmas…we got everything, the tree is done, the turkey is defrosting. Stop worrying,”  
  
Fernando is about to reply when he sees a familiar bright yellow Mini begins climbing up the driveway.  
  
“See?” Jenson says, softly. “You had nothing to worry about, he’s here now,” He presses another kiss to Fernando’s cheek as they watch their son’s car pull up outside their house. Fernando immediately rushes over to the driver’s side of the car, enveloping his son in warm Spanish as he hugs him close. Carlos smiles warmly, replying in Spanish, his arms wrapped around his father. Jenson soon follows, hugging his son close to him, smiling as his soft curls brush against Jenson’s chin.  
  
“You’re getting taller every time I see you,” Jenson says to his son, softly. Carlos smiles and bites his lip, glancing back to his car.  
  
“Dad, Papa, I have somebody I want you to meet…” He says after a moment. Fernando raises an eyebrow, following his son’s gaze to where another young man is standing by the car, teeth worrying his lip. His hair is dark, his skin is pale and he looks familiar.  
  
“This is my boyfriend, Dany. Dany, you know my parents…” Carlos beams.  
  
“Hello Mr Alonso. Mr Button,” Dany says, looking nervous. Jenson immediately walks over to the young man and envelopes him in a hug.  
  
“Haven’t you grown up since I saw you last?” Jenson says as he pats Dany on the back, the Russian gives him a small smile.  
  
“It’s been a while. I’m sorry for intruding on your Christmas. My parents are away in Bora Bora on holiday and Carlos insisted that I come with him,” Dany says, biting his lip.  
  
“It’s fine, Dany, don’t worry. We have enough food to feed a small army,” Jenson says with a smile. “It’s good to see you, he kept that one quiet,”  
  
“He didn’t want anyone to know, he didn’t want to get in the way of us racing,” Dany’s cheeks are red with blush.   
  
“Don’t worry about it. Carlos is very much like his Papa, he doesn’t like telling people anything either. Don’t worry. We’ll find somewhere to put your things,” Jenson says as he helps Dany bring in the large bags filled with gifts.  
  
“I see Carlos went mad with gifts,” Jenson says as he brings in a particularly heavy bag.  
  
Dany nods, the blush not leaving his cheeks as he follows Jenson into the house. It’s beautiful – almost with a Spanish villa air, the walls are bright white, and the house gives off a sense of lightness and air. It’s beautiful, he thinks, as he’s guided into the lounge by Jenson who immediately relieves him of his bags. He sits down next to Carlos, sinking into the couch cushions, smiling softly as his boyfriend’s hand curls around his own.  
  
“You said you’d called your parents and told them about me,” Dany says, his voice quiet. “I don’t think your Papa likes me very much,”  
  
“He’s just overprotective, just ignore him. He thinks I’m still a baby, Dany,” Carlos says softly, squeezing Dany’s fingers. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell him, I knew he would freak out so-“  
  
“Carlos, he’s your father, he’s just overprotective because you’re his only son-“  
  
“I’m sorry, Dany. Just praise his Christmas pudding and you’ll be fine,” Carlos says, his thumb rubbing over Dany’s skin.  
  
  


* * *

  
“I can’t believe he didn’t tell us he was dating Horner’s son,” Fernando hisses under his breath as he roughly cuts up some vegetables.  
  
“Nando, you know what Carlos is like. He didn’t even tell us about dating Mitch-“  
  
“He dated Mitch? Mark’s son? Why didn’t he tell me?” Fernando says, glancing at Jenson with hurt in his eyes.  
  
“I don’t know, Nando. He’s grown up and you’re still clinging to the idea of him being a child. He’s nineteen, he’s not a baby anymore,” Jenson says, moving the bags full of gifts into the store cupboard.  
  
“He will always be my baby boy, even when he’s thirty, when he’s old and grey,” Fernando says, his eyes dark.  
  
“I know he will, but you have to let him go sometime, Nando. Dany is a lovely boy, they make a good couple,”  
  
Fernando grumbles as he continues chopping up the vegetables. Jenson gathers together the Doritos and dips, before he moves back into the lounge. Carlos is sitting on Dany’s lap, his eyes dark with desire as he presses kisses against the older boy’s neck. Jenson watches for a moment, the line of Dany’s pale neck stretched out, his son’s hands fisted into his t-shirt, the moans that spring from his parted lips before he clears his throat.  
  
He smiles as Dany’s eyes snap open and grow wide, pushing Carlos away. Carlos glances around, pushing back the hair that has fallen free of his gel before his gaze lands on his father.  
  
“Am I interrupting anything?” Jenson says brightly as he places the dish of crisps down on the table.  
  
Dany shakes his head, his cheeks are still bright red. His t-shirt is slightly rumpled and there’s a mark on his neck. Carlos’s hair is slightly more mussed than usual, his hand entwining with his boyfriend’s.  
  
Jenson watches the pair with a smile on his face.  
  
  


* * *

  
Fernando watches his son and Dany take the empty plates into the kitchen, Carlos gives Dany a small smirk as he pokes his boyfriend in the side. Jenson watches them both joke, Carlos brushing a quick kiss against his boyfriend’s lips before they begin filling up the sink with hot soapy water.  
  
His eyes narrow as he watches his son grinning widely at Dany, shoving his wet, soapy hands on the pale boy. Dany retaliates by whipping at Carlos with the tea towel.  
  
“Stop it, you’re messing up my hair,” Carlos says.  
  
“You got me all wet!” Dany grins as he whips Carlos again with the tea towel.   
  
Fernando goes to stand up but Jenson grabs his hand. “Where do you think you’re going, Mr Alonso-Button?” He smirks lazily.  
  
“I’m going to see if the boys want hot chocolate,” Fernando says innocently.  
  
“You’re doing no such thing, they’re only washing up in there, let them do it,” Jenson says, glaring at his husband as he pulls him back onto the couch.  
  
Fernando sighs as Jenson brushes another kiss to his brow. “Kissing me isn’t going to make me tell them they’re staying in separate bedrooms,”  
  
“Nando-“  
  
“No, Jense, they’re staying in opposite rooms tonight, I’m not having any funny business,” Fernando mutters, his eyes back on the boys, on Carlos standing up slightly to press a kiss against Dany’s chin before the two collapse in giggles.  
  
  


* * *

  
"What do you mean Dany and I can’t share a bed?” Carlos glances at his father with narrowed eyes.  
  
“You’re not sharing a bed with Dany, we didn’t even know you were dating until you showed up with him. He can stay in the spare room,”  
  
“Papa, I’m not a baby anymore,” Carlos says, his voice tight. Dany says nothing, worrying his lip as he tries to tug Carlos to the couch.  
  
“Chili, it’s okay, I don’t mind sleeping in the spare room-“  
  
“You’re not sleeping in the spare room, Dany! You’re my best friend and my boyfriend! It’s not like we’re going to be up all night having wild sex-“  
  
“Daniil-“ Jenson says softly.  
  
“We’re not though! We’re both responsible adults, stop thinking of me as a baby-“ Carlos yells, his face red with anger.  
  
“Daniil is staying in the spare room and that’s final, Carlitos!” Fernando screams back, his eyes dark.  
  
“Fine,” Carlos says dangerously, the door slams shut behind him.  
  
  


* * *

  
Carlos is curled up in his sheets, still angry at his father when he hears a knock on the door. He ignores it, knowing that it’s probably his father wanting to shout at him again, but another knock breaks through the silence. Carlos curls up under his duvet and waits for the person to go away, but the door opens quietly and a pair of footsteps shuffle across his carpet. He tenses for a moment, ready for his father’s voice but it doesn’t come, a warm body moves under the sheets and curls around Carlos. Carlos sighs in relief as he feels the warm hands of his boyfriend wrap around him, the smell of Dany’s aftershave tickling his nose.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Carlos says quietly. “I should have told them about you. Now, everything is ruined,”  
  
Dany chuckles slightly under his breath, brushing a light kiss to his boyfriend’s hair. “Your dad gets like you when you’re angry…only when you’re angry, you make me feel things I’m not supposed to-“  
  
Carlos whines as Dany’s lips press against his hair, tickle the gentle shell of his ear. “Dany, stop that, my dad’s probably outside waiting to drag you out-“  
  
“Since when did you care who saw us? Remember when we were fifteen with the mistletoe?” Dany whispers against his boyfriend’s ear.  
  
Carlos feels the blush spread over his cheeks. “Dany, stop it-“  
  
“When I had bad hair and you were still as stunning as you are now. God, the crush I had on you when we were little-“  
  
“Dany, stop that, you’ve always been good enough for me. I remember when we were fifteen and you gave me that kiss under the mistletoe, you still had your braces, you were adorable-“  
  
“And look at us now,” Dany whispers, pulling Carlos closer to him. “Stuck in a bed together on Christmas Eve,” He kisses Carlos’s cheek, his lips lingering on the warm skin.  
  
Carlos giggles as Dany’s kisses turn more heated, dancing down his warm skin, over the light stubble down his neck.  
  
  


* * *

  
Fernando goes to check on Carlos an hour later; the room is dark when he enters. He moves closer to the bed to see his son fast asleep, curled up under the sheets, dreaming peacefully. However, Dany is curled around his son’s back, almost protectively, sleeping soundly, his arms wrapped around Carlos’s midsection. He feels a smile tug at his lips at the sight of the two young men wrapped up together.   
  
“I’m sorry, Carlos,” He says softly to the sleeping young man wrapped up in the sheets. “I was so intent on keeping hold of you, I almost lost you in the process, I’m sorry I freaked out about the whole boyfriend thing. Dany is a lovely person and we’re lucky that you fell in love with someone like him,” Fernando pauses for a moment.  
“I’m going to apologise to you both in the morning. I’m sorry my little cub, goodnight, sleep tight,” Fernando says, smoothing his hand over Carlos’s mussed hair for a moment before he stands up.  
  
“You did good there,” Jenson says softly from the doorway. “You just need to say that when he’s awake,”  
  
“I know,” Fernando says, allowing his husband to lead him to bed. “I’m sorry for been a moody bastard today…I ruined Christmas,”  
  
“Christmas isn’t over yet,” Jenson winks as he presses Fernando into the bedsheets.  
  
  


* * *

   
Carlos and Dany cuddle closer to each other, wide smiles on their faces. “I guess my dad made Papa soften up a little,” the Spaniard says, his face pressed against his boyfriend’s chest.  
  
“Or maybe it was my good boyfriend act,” Dany smirks, kissing Carlos’s temple.  
  
“Good boyfriend act?” Carlos raises an eyebrow.  
  
“I can show you the bad boyfriend act if you like,” Dany replies, pressing another kiss to his boyfriend’s hair.  
  
“Challenge accepted,” Carlos says, pulling Dany closer.


	25. Bolero (Lewis/Nico)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nico wants nothing more to replicate his parent's success and win a gold medal in figure skating at the Olympics, however, when his sister Vivian tears her ligament, it seems that dream is gone...until he sees a old face from his past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My last Christmas fic and I hope this is worth the wait. (Well, it's a 9k Brocedes fic so standard for me)  
> Thanks to everyone for reading this series, it was worth all the hard work to see people enjoying my fics and once again, thank you for all the support I've received on my fics this year. As a writer, it really means a lot. 
> 
> I should mention that I know nothing about ice skating and the "routines" in this fic are mostly from Dancing on Ice. Take everything with a pinch of salt.  
> This is actually a story for Lis, hope you like it, darling.
> 
> Enjoy! :)

Keke glances into his partner’s eyes for a moment as his boot hits his ice, his leg extended outwards in an elegant motion.  Keke grasps Sina’s hand for a moment as they mirror each other, stretching their legs upwards and out, dancing over the ice like they are both weightless, like they are at one with the ice. They move their legs back down to graze the ice, both turning effortlessly, their hands still entwined as they move together, twirling over the ice.  
Keke’s hands move to close over Sina’s waist, lifting her up into the air. Sina smiles and stretches her hands outwards in an elegant fashion, her toes pointed as she stays in the hold for a second or two, Keke’s hands guiding her blades back down at the ice.  
  
Sina jumps down on Keke’s outstretched calf, as he spins the pair of them around in a circle, before Sina’s knee hits the floor and they splay artfully against the floor, Sina on her stomach and Keke holding onto her hand as they both lay on the floor, the applause of the crowd drowning out the closing notes of music. The couple both take large gulps of air, letting the moment wash over them before Keke helps Sina to her feet, their fingers are still entwined. They giggle at each other for a moment before Keke pulls her close, brushing a kiss to her cheek. The couple then smile broadly at each other for a moment before they both bow respectfully to the animated crowd, the crowd who are all on their feet, there’s banners with Keke and Sina’s names on them.  
  
They stand at the side of the rink and wait for their score. The nine blue boxes are blank on the screen for a moment, before they begin to flash with 6.0s dancing across the board. Sina’s hand flies to her open mouth, tears prick the corners of her eyes as she and Keke glance at nine perfect scores displayed on the board. Keke pulls her close, his hand twining around her waist and pressing another kiss to her cheek as he grins widely at the score. Keke waves at the crowd who wave back, screaming. Sina is still crying, Keke’s hand around her waist as she trembles.  
  
They earned that score; after hundreds and hundreds of hours practising at the local ice skating rink, all those hours in the gyms, the hours spent with Sina making sure every aspect was perfect, it all paid off.  
  
They’ve won the gold medal at the Olympics.

* * *

  
Sina glances at the gold medal around her neck, it feels heavy against her light, silky skating outfit. The bouquet of flowers are pressed into her arms, she can feel her legs still shaking, her lip caught between her teeth as she watches Keke bow his head, the medal sliding into place over his neck. They link hands and lift them up into the crowd, the crowd cheer loudly, their banners still waving.  
  
Sina leans in, her fingers squeezing Keke’s, “I have something to tell you,”  
  
Keke raises an eyebrow but he nods, before he smiles at the crowd.

* * *

  
“You’re serious?” Keke says, his mouth dropping open at Sina’s news.  
  
“Would I joke about this?” Sina asks, her hand on her stomach. Her brown eyes are locked on Keke’s.  
  
“But you skated out there, Sina, you shouldn’t have,”  
  
“Keke,” Sina says gently, her hands brushing over the Finn’s. “This was a once in a lifetime opportunity, I’m only a few weeks pregnant. I may not get another chance like this,”  
  
Keke squares his jaw. “Okay, but no more now, you’re a gold medal winner, you can afford to have a few months off,”  
  
Sina laughs and pats her still flat stomach. “I’ll tell him or her about how I won a gold medal whilst I was having them,”  
  
“Not many kids can say that,” Keke winks.  
  
“Our child is half me, half you, Keke. He or she is destined for the ice,” Sina says, smiling.

* * *

  
Nico watches the television screen with a critical glare, he’s got out his notebook and pen, jotting down notes in his untidy hand; his hair is mussed, his shirt is wrinkled and he’s wearing his reading glasses, chewing on the end of his pen as he rewatches the lift for a sixth time.  
  
“Still working hard, darling?” His mother’s voice cuts through the silence. She presses a hot cup of tea into her son’s hand, smiling at the television screen. “Seems like only yesterday that your father and I performed that routine,” She says, glancing at her younger self, in Keke’s arms.  
  
“I want to win that gold at the Olympics,” Nico says, tearing his eyes away from the screen.  
  
“And I’m sure you will, darling,” Sina says, ruffling her son’s blonde hair. “Dinner will be ready in about ten minutes,”  
  
“I’ll be down in a bit,” Nico says, turning his attention back to the video.  
  
Sina watches him for a moment before she leaves; Nico has grown up, the son of two gold medal winning ice skaters, he wants the same success as his parents. He’s watched the video more times than Sina can count, analysing every single one of his parent’s moves.  
  
“Still watching the Bolero, Nico?” Another voice cuts in, Nico turns to see his twin sister Vivian standing in the doorway, smiling at him.  
  
“You should be watching it too, for some tips,” Nico replies.  
  
“Nico, I think that Bolero is burned into my eyeballs and lets not forget that mom was having us when she performed that. I want to do my own thing,” Vivian says, smiling at her big brother.  
  
“I just want our routine to be perfect, Vinnie,” Nico says. Vivian moves closer to Nico, hugging him from behind, her long blonde hair tumbles over his shoulder. She glances at their gold medals hanging on the wall.  
  
“It will be just as perfect as our others,” She says, smiling softly as she watches his eyes fall on the gold medals, they stop on the ones from the Commonwealth Games.  
  
“But this is the Olympics, Vinnie,”  
  
“Exactly, we’re Rosbergs, we’re used to winning,” Vivian winks. “We’re going to win that gold medal in Rio, don’t worry about that,”

* * *

  
Nico’s dreams shatter around him as during a practise session, he misjudges a lift and he drops Vivian to the floor too early, making her knee twist slightly as she falls. She sits on the cold ice, pain dancing over her features; it’s routine at this point, Vivian and Nico are used to falls and bumps against the ice, they usually get back up again. But this time, when Vivian attempts to pull herself upright, she crumples back down to the floor, yelling in pain.  
  
“What’s wrong, Vinnie?” Nico asks, worrying his lip.  
  
“My knee really hurts,” Vivian says, tears pricking the corners of her eyes.

* * *

  
Vivian has torn her cruciate ligament, the doctor expects it will take six to nine months to heal. Nico sits down heavily in the chair next to Vivian’s bed as the doctor tells them the news. Vivian glances at the doctor and can only nod, before she bursts into tears. Sina immediately pulls her daughter close, her hands twisting into the long blonde hair. Vivian sobs against her mother, cries for the lost opportunity, cries about the pain, cries about leaving her brother without a partner five months before the Olympics are due to start.  
  
Nico pulls Vivian close to him, tries to ignore the pain radiating through his chest as her tears soak the front of his t-shirt.  
  
“I’m so sorry,” She sobs against his shirt. “I ruined everything,”  
  
“You didn’t ruin everything, Vinnie. I’m so sorry for dropping you and-“  
  
“It was an accident, Nico. Accidents happen,” She says, smiling in spite of the pain. Her hands closes around his. “I guess you’ll have to find a new partner,”  
  
“I’m not skating without you, Vinnie,” Nico says, his green eyes defiant.  
  
“Well, then, you won’t be skating in the Olympics then, Nico. I won’t be ready to skate with you in five months. Rehabilitation is going to be like eight months minimum,”  
  
“I’m not doing this without you, Vivian,”  
  
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Vivian argues. “You can’t just stop with your dream because my ligaments decided to give up, you have to skate in the Olympics, you just _have_ to,”  
  
“Vivian-“  
  
“I’m not arguing with you, Nico,”

* * *

  
Nico begins the search to find a new partner. It’s a difficult task, he still holds onto the belief that Vivian’s ligament will heal within the time limit so that he can do the performance he knows they are both capable of. Nico bites his lip as he watches another skater dance across the ice; she’s good but she’s not fluid enough, she places too much thought into her movements. Nico frowns heavily, shaking his head.  
  
“Still looking for the perfect partner?” Vivian’s voice pipes up behind him, she’s leaning on her crutches, grinning widely at her brother.  
  
“Well, I have a perfect partner. I’m looking at her,” Nico grins.  
  
Vivian rolls her eyes. “Well, unfortunately for you, my cruciate ligament begs to differ,” She says, easing herself into the seat next to Nico. “I see you are on the hunt for a new partner,”  
  
“Haven’t found anyone yet,”  
  
“Anyone good enough for your standards, you mean, Nico,” Vivian quips.  
  
Nico glances out over the ice, watching the people skate around over the frozen surface. He wants nothing more to pull on his own skates, to let himself go, to allow his body to drift over the ice. His eyes fall on another figure; this one is a male, he’s skinny and dark-skinned, he skates over the ice with trepidation. Nico feels his mouth fall open at the ice skater, it’s a face from his past, back when he was in his teens, when he was beginning to compete in tournaments. He doesn’t remember much of that time, he’s buried those memories; memories of warm lips, of dark brown eyes trusting, of a tanned hand grasping his wrist as they danced across his ice.  
  
“Lewis?” Nico whispers.  
  
Vivian looks at Nico, smirking. “What?”  
  
Nico glances at his sister. “Lewis is here, Vivian. He’s here skating.” He glances back to Lewis, who is still gingerly making his way over the ice.  
  
His movement is a little stilted, he’s lost some of his shaping but his raw talent and technique is visible to Nico’s trained eye. He thinks about those halcyon days, about when he and Lewis competed against each other, when their scores were nearly identical. That was until the day that Lewis broke his leg, Nico remembers the day as though it was yesterday; they were twenty, they were both competing in the same category. Nico had performed out of his skin, earning himself top marks and a standing ovation from the crowd. Lewis took to the ice and put on a performance as equally skilled and beautiful as Nico’s, until he overstepped on the ice and tumbled to the floor. Nico will never forget the pain twisted on Lewis’s features as he lay on the ice. Lewis was never the same again; he gave up skating a few months after that, Nico saw him occasionally in the crowds, his face unreadable.  
  
Vivian watches the dark skinned man, he’s hesitant on the ice, his previous confidence and trust in the ice is completely shattered. Her fingers tighten around her crutches, turning them white. She hopes that her confidence and technique aren’t destroyed by her injury. She glances at Nico and smiles widely.  
  
“Nico, what do you look for in a partner?” She asks, her gaze settled on her brother, his eyes haven’t left Lewis.  
  
“I want somebody who understands me, who understands the art of skating, who can move in time to the music, somebody who can give themselves up, lose themselves in the dance,” Nico pauses for a moment. “Why?”  
  
Vivian smiles at him, her gaze is elsewhere. Nico follows it; his eyes look on Lewis, still skating around the ice.  
  
“Absolutely not, Vivian. Don’t be so ridiculous,”  
  
“Why not? He’s exactly the same as you, Nico. He’s driven, determined, passionate and emotional, he’s everything you would want in a partner,” Vivian hisses, her eyes still on Lewis.  
  
“First of, he’s a guy and I can’t compete with a man in the Olympic tournaments, Vinnie. Second, he’s changed, he’s not as good as he was anymore. I wouldn’t be able to get him to the level needed to get a medal… why are you giving me that look?”  
  
“Because you’re lying to yourself. You know there’s only one person other than me who is worthy of being your partner, Nico, and you’re looking at him. What are you afraid of?”  
  
Nico squares his jaw. “I’m not afraid of Lewis,”  
  
“That’s good,” A familiar voice cuts in. Nico freezes and glances up into warm brown eyes. Lewis smiles widely, the gap in his teeth still tantalising as it ever was. “Sorry, was I interrupting something?”  
  
“No,” Nico says thickly, trying not to look at Lewis. He looks good; he’s changed only a little, his hair is longer and gelled up into some trendy style, a far cry from the buzz cut of his teenage years.  
  
“I heard that you and Vivian are going in for the Olympics in a few months,” Lewis says, smiling before his gaze hits Vivian and her crutches. His features flood with confusion. “What’s happened?”  
  
“I tore my cruciate ligament a few weeks ago,” Vivian says, his voice cracking ever so slightly.  
  
“Your ligament? But that’s a recovery time of like eight months, that means…oh, Vivi, I’m so sorry,”  
  
Vivian doesn’t say anything else, she bites her lip. “It’s okay, I’m more upset about Nico, he doesn’t have a partner,”  
  
“He doesn’t?” Lewis glances at Nico, their eyes seem to lock for a moment. “I’m sorry to hear that, Nico, are you looking for a new partner?”  
  
“He’s trying, hasn’t found anyone to match his exceptionally high standards yet,” Vivian quips. Lewis smirks widely.  
  
“Good luck with that,” He says.

* * *

  
“You should ask him,” Vivian says. “He’s the only person who can help you win that medal,”  
  
“Maybe I should enter the singles competition, I’d have a better shot of winning,”  
  
“Nico Erik,” Vivian says. “Why don’t you just ask him? I’m sure he’d say yes,”  
  
“Because there’s too much history between us, Vinnie,” Nico sighs.  
  
“Are you still blaming yourself for his accident?”  
  
Nico bites his lip. “I pushed him too far, Vivian, I ruined his career, all his dreams of getting a medal,”  
  
“And Lewis has probably accepted that now. You never resolved your problems, you need to talk to him, he needs it too, Nico,”  
  
Nico sighs, leaning back in his chair, his thoughts thick with brown eyes and dark skin.

* * *

  
“Absolutely not, I can’t skate, not in front of all those crowds and definitely not with you,” Lewis says, folding his arms and glancing at Nico with dark eyes.  
  
“Please, Lew,” Nico says, emphasising the nickname of years past. “You’re the only person that can help me, the only person good enough to help me win this gold medal,”  
  
“Nico, I can’t, I can’t skate,” Lewis says, biting his lip. “I can’t do it anymore, I’m not good enough,”  
  
“Lew,” Nico pleads. “Please think about it, you’re the only person that can do this for me,”  
  
“I was the only person who could do this for you, I can’t anymore,” Lewis looks down at his shoes. “I’m nothing like I was, I’m a nobody,”  
  
“You’re not a nobody. Lewis, I need you,”  
  
“I needed you Nico, when I shattered that bone in my ankle. I needed you, but you never came to help me. Why should I help you? Why should I give you what you’ve always wanted when you never came to the hospital? Never came to see me when I was on crutches with my career in tatters? Why should I?” Lewis says.  
  
Before Nico can formulate an answer, Lewis is gone.

* * *

  
Nico is on the ice for the first time since Vivian’s injury; it feels strange for a moment, like breaking in new shoes before the sense of familiarity washes over him. He begins to pick up speed, twists his foot slightly to turn slightly, he takes off from the inside back edge of his right skate and twists through the air easily before he lands on the outside back edge of his skate. He grins widely; he’s beginning to trust the ice once more, he picks up speed again twisting his body backwards. He allows his skates to guide him, the blades making the familiar cutting noise over the ice. He tries an axel turn – starts off simple – double axel turn is simple enough to execute which he does quickly and efficiently, he doesn’t even wobble as he hits the ice.  
  
“I know you can do a triple axel turn,” A familiar voice pipes up from the sidelines.  
  
Nico raises an eyebrow and leans down to tighten up the laces of his teal coloured skates. “And I know you can do one too, maybe you can show me?”  
  
“Didn’t bring my skates, I’m afraid,” Lewis smirks.  
  
“Didn’t stop you before, you used to nick Kuba’s, do you remember?”  
  
“How could I forget?” Lewis says quietly. “They were too big for me, but I wore them anyway, I just wanted to skate,”  
  
“I remember the last time you did a triple axel turn and I remember everyone looking at you, praising you, I wanted everyone to look at me like they did you…” Nico says, he looks down at the ice, it’s the only constant in his life.  
  
“Are you kidding me? You were the golden boy, I mean, everyone spoke of your parents, Keke and Sina Rosberg, the gold medal winners. I saw you, and you were similar to them, not exactly the same, you wanted your own success…” Lewis bites his lip.  
  
“Well, only half of that is true,” Nico says, skating over to the side. He carefully steps out onto the rubber mat, ignoring the twinge of pain in his ankles at the feeling of his feet against the hard ground. “I doubt I’ll get my own success, forever be Nico Rosberg, the son of Keke and Sina,” He leans down to tug open the laces of his skates.  
  
“What are you doing?” Lewis asks, he leans down to bat at Nico’s hands. “You can’t just quit…”  
  
Nico laughs half-heartedly, tears beginning to sting at the corners of his eyes. “I don’t think you’re in a position to be telling me that, Lewis,”  
  
Lewis’s eyes are dark as they settle on Nico. “Nico, I know you, I know you better than anyone. I know that you don’t want to do this,” His hand settles on Nico’s, his fingers are warm as they brush over his skin.  
  
Nico bites his lip as he glances at Lewis, into the brown eyes of the boy that knew him so well, still knows him so well; he knows that he won’t give up. Nico glances down at the floor and notices Lewis wearing a familiar pair of white ice skates with a black 44 printed on them.  
  
“I thought you said you didn’t have your skates,” Nico says softly. “Are you-“  
  
“I thought about what you said, I didn’t want you to throw away the one chance you get to get a medal, I don’t want to stand by when I could have done something,” Lewis replies, his brown eyes locked on Nico’s green ones.  
  
“Lewis-“ Nico says, his fingers still closed over Lewis’s.  
  
“I’m scared, Nico. I’m scared of the ice, I’m scared to trust anyone to handle me over the ice.” Lewis says, his voice shakes slightly. Nico squeezes his hand tightly, his eyes hold contact with the Brit’s.  
  
“I can’t promise you that nothing will happen, but I can promise you that I will try and help you if anything does. Trust me, please trust me,”  
  
Lewis nods, biting his lip. “I always have,” Their hands stay entwined as they pull each other up from the mats and move towards the ice. Lewis’s hand tightens around Nico’s as he places a boot on the icy surface.  
  
“It’s okay, I believe in you,” Nico says softly, his thumb stroking over Lewis’s hand.  
  
Lewis exhales as his other foot hits the ice and a wide smile breaks over his face. Nico finds an identical smile spreading across his face.

* * *

  
“Did you find a partner to skate with?” Vivian asks from the couch as she watches Nico zip up his tracksuit top and pull on his beanie.  
  
“Huh?” Nico asks, picking up his duffel bag and checking over his skates one last time.  
  
“You’re spending an awful long time at the rink, so unless Jess from the café said yes which I’m highly doubting, you found yourself a partner,” Vivian says, smiling gently at him.  
  
“Vivian-“  
  
“Hey, I knew I was going to happen sometime. I want you to get a medal, just tell her not to get comfortable because at the next Olympics, Team Rosberg is back on,”  
  
“Vivian, it’s not a her, it’s Lewis-“ Nico says, biting his lip.  
  
Vivian’s grin widens and her eyes go wide. “Lewis agreed to skate with you? I can’t believe this, you’re going to skate with Lewis Hamilton?”  
  
“Nothing is concrete yet, Vivian. He’s still getting used to being back on the ice-“ Nico says quietly.  
  
“I can’t believe it. If there’s anyone I’d want to take my place, it’s Lewis. He’s the only one who can help you win that medal,” Vivian says, her eyes shining. “Hey, can I come and watch you practise?”  
  
“Not yet. He’s still thinking about whether he wants to do it, you might scare him off if you turn up so soon,” Nico says as Vivian sinks back into the cushions.  
  
“I want to see you two perform the dance before the Olympics though,” She says, folding her arms. Nico notices she’s rewatching their mother and father’s Bolero but he purses his lips as he picks up his duffel and shuts the door quietly behind him.

* * *

  
“I can’t do this,” Lewis says shakily as he leans on the side of the rink, trying to calm down his beating heart. “I can’t do this anymore, Nico,”

Nico bites his lip as he watches Lewis’s legs shake slightly, his knuckles are pale as they hold onto the railings of the rink. “You can do this, you have to trust in yourself,”  
  
“I’m going to break my leg again, I know I am,” Lewis says, shaking his head, his brown eyes are filled with tears.  
  
“You’re not going to break your leg. Just take my hand,” Nico says, his voice soft, his eyes fixed on Lewis as he extends his hand out to the shaking Brit. “If you can’t trust yourself, trust me,”  
  
Lewis glances into Nico’s dark green eyes and exhales deeply. “Okay, okay,” He whispers to himself as he reaches out and grasps Nico’s hand. Nico’s fingers curl around Lewis’s and squeeze tightly.  
  
“Trust me, trust me and the ice,” Nico repeats. Lewis’s fingers slowly move off the barrier and his foot slides forward. Nico keeps hold of his hand and slowly guides him over the ice. He finds Lewis slowly stop shaking but his dark eyes never leave Nico.

* * *

  
It’s slow but steady progress with Lewis; Nico takes his hand at the beginning of each session, his fingers curl around Lewis’s, brown eyes fix on green as he slowly begins to guide Lewis around on the ice. Lewis has slowly begun to skate around rather than be dragged by the blonde. However, Nico keeps thinking about the timeframe; he knows he has to be patient with Lewis, but he needs to get the Brit to start believing in himself. There’s only five months before they’re due to perform at the Olympics. He has to get Lewis into shape quickly, he wonders if he’ll even get the Brit into any type of hold, let alone get him to perform an axel turn independently.  
  
“I need your help,” He says to Vivian one night as he’s revising through the plan.  
  
“What’s the matter?” She asks, allowing him to sit next to her. He glances at her leg for a moment, at her knee – the swelling is slowly receding, her leg looks almost normal but the crutches propped up next to her bed remind him of her injury.  
  
“I don’t know if I can do this, Lewis is progressing but he’s still got no confidence when I let go of him, he’s scared of the ice and I don’t know if he will overcome it before it’s too late. He will need to skate on his own for us to stand a chance at the Olympics,”  
  
“Listen,” Vivian whispers, brushing back Nico’s unruly blonde hair. “You should get some rest and stop worrying about it, you’re exhausted. Let me speak to him tomorrow,”  
  
“Thanks Vivian, you’re the best,” Nico says with a sleepy smile.  
  
“I know, I’m the best twin,” Vivian replies, grinning widely. “Now stop worrying about it, get some rest, how are you supposed to be the next Christopher Dean with bags under your eyes?”

* * *

  
Lewis bites his lip as he tentatively takes a step onto the ice. He glances around; there’s nobody at the rink this early in the morning – it’s just him and the ice, like it used to be. He takes a deep breath as his foot glides over the ice, it’s smooth, stable – he can trust the ice, he’s still close enough to the barrier that he can grab on if he needs to…he places his other foot onto the ice and tries to stay as still as he can. He’s on the ice now – he takes another deep breath.  
  
“You can do this,” He whispers, as he leans forward, places his weight downwards as he’s been taught to. “You can do this,” He repeats as he plants one foot in front of the other – his foot begins to glide across the ice and the tension begins to melt away from his shoulders as he allows his reflexes to kick in, to allow his body to dance over the ice, to give himself up and become one with the ice. It was the only way to truly master it.  He picks up speed, twisting himself slightly. Lewis is so immersed in his own thoughts he doesn’t realise the brown eyes watching him from the stands.  
  
“You’ve improved since the last time I saw you,” The voice echoes around the arena.  
  
Lewis is immediately pulled from his thoughts and glances across the ice to see Vivian sitting in the stands, crutches at her side, her long blonde hair is pulled into a bun.  
  
“Vivi-“ He begins, the confidence begins to pull away from him, the ice taunts him once more--  
  
“Lewis,” Her voice echoes out again. “Believe in yourself. You and the ice are one, the ice is not your enemy,” She says, her eyes fixed on him.  
  
“But you got hurt-“ Lewis says, his fingers curling over the barrier.  
  
“But I took a chance. If you don’t take the chance, you will never know anything. I took a gamble and it didn’t pay off, but I’m not afraid of the ice. I don’t think you are either. I think you’re afraid of something else,”  
  
“I’m not,” Lewis says defensively.  
  
“You’re afraid of losing yourself, giving yourself up and being vulnerable again. That’s what you’re afraid of,” Vivian replies, her brown eyes dark.  
  
“But what if it happens again?” Lewis says.  
  
“What if it doesn’t? What if you walk away from this and Nico wins the gold medal that you wanted all your life? Are you really going to throw everything away because you’re scared?”  
  
“I’m not scared,” Lewis replies.  
  
“Prove it, prove it that you aren’t running away from this,” Vivian’s eyes are defiant. “Prove that you’re not a coward,”  
  
Lewis bites his lip and he realises he’s let go of the barrier, his feet slide across the ice with ease. Vivian smiles at him widely as he stands before him, his hands resting on the barrier.  
  
“I knew you could do it,”  
  
“Not if it hadn’t been for you,” Lewis argues.  
  
“Was I the person who took your first steps for you onto the ice? I don’t think so. Don’t overestimate yourself, you should believe in yourself more,” Vivian says.  
  
Lewis nods ever so slightly, glancing at the crutches lying by the blonde’s side.

* * *

  
Nico arrives at the ice rink a few hours later and has just finished strapping on his teal skates. He’s walking to the rink when he sees a familiar figure skating across the ice – they aren’t as fast as they used to be, but they are still gliding over the ice with no hesitation. Nico stands at the sidelines and watches Lewis skate over the ice, guided by Vivian sitting in the stands.   
  
“That’s it, do you think you can try a turn?” Vivian says, watching the Brit bite his lip and hesitate. “C’mon,” She continues, coaxing him gently. “Just a quick half turn, I know you can do it,”  
  
Lewis nods and he picks up a touch more speed, gliding over the ice as he twists halfway – it’s sloppy and his toes aren’t pointed and he stumbles a little on the exit but his smile is wide and his shoulders slump with relief as he lands back on the ice. He immediately skates over to Vivian and presses her into a hug.  
  
Nico can’t stop himself from clapping. Lewis immediately rips himself from Vivian, his eyes widen as they fix on Nico standing by the sidelines.  
  
“Did you see everything?” Lewis asks, worrying his lip again.  
  
“It wasn’t the best turn I’ve ever seen you execute, it was a little sloppy on the exit but-“ Nico stops, smile curling on his face. “I see you’ve got yourself a new coach?”  
  
“Who else was going to teach me your moves and not get annoyed with me?” Lewis teases, glancing down at Nico’s skates. “You haven’t changed much since your teenage years,” He quirks an eyebrow.  
  
“What? My skates?” Nico asks, confused.  
  
“Reminds me of those bright yellow ones you used to wear, you remember them?” Lewis says.  
  
“How could I forget? My dad bought them for me as a Christmas present, they were custom made-“ Nico says. “So I see that you’ve been busy without me? Can you do that triple axel turn yet?”  
  
“I don’t know, I might try if you can do the quadruple turn,” Lewis teases. Nico grins and holds his hand out. “Want to practise?"

* * *

  
Days melt away into weeks – Nico and Lewis spend all their spare time at the ice rink, practising hard. Nico pushes Lewis a little more with each day, he hates the fact that the Brit comes off the ice, panting heavily, his legs shaking slightly – sometimes he has to grasp the side of the arena as he pulls off his skates with a pained groan. Nico knows it’s because Lewis has lost some of his conditioning, he’s not used to skating day in, day out, and certainly not to this level of technique.  
  
“Okay, one more time from the top,” Nico says. |  
  
Lewis nods – he’s not much of a talker when he’s skating, he’s trying to concentrate. He holds onto Nico’s palm as they begin the dance once more. Lewis dances alongside Nico – they’re perfectly in sync as they move their bodies – Nico glances over at Lewis, his shaping is getting better, he’s paying more attention to where he positions his legs but his hands are still a little messy.  
  
They switch into the next part of the dance – Lewis’s hand finds Nico as they glide across the ice together, Lewis slightly in front of Nico as he crosses his legs elegantly. They pick up a little speed as they turn backwards, Nico’s hand entwined with his before they cross onto Lewis’s waist, lifting him up into the air. Lewis tries to remain calm, to breathe through his nose and mouth and stop the rapid beating of his heart as he tries to hold the pose, Nico skating underneath him.  
  
“Stop, stop,” Lewis says out loud. Nico stops and gently lowers Lewis to the ice.  
  
“Are you okay?” He asks gently, his hand on Lewis’s shoulders. Lewis exhales deeply, trying to get rid of the dizziness swirling around in his head.  
  
“I don’t think I can’t do this,” Lewis says, hating how shaky his voice sounds.  
  
“The lift or the routine?” Nico asks.  
  
Lewis looks down at the floor, at the skates, at Nico’s bright teal ones and feels the nausea burn through his chest. “Any of it, I can’t…I feel like you’re going to drop me,”  
  
“Lew, have I ever dropped you before?”  
  
“No, but-“  
  
“What would it take for you to trust me?” Nico says, glancing at Lewis. Lewis finds he can’t tear himself away from those dark green eyes.  
  
“I don’t know,” Lewis says, finally looking away. “Look, can we just do it again without the lift?”  
  
Nico finds himself agreeing.

* * *

  
Nico and Lewis are skating together the week after, Nico’s hand is pressed into Lewis’s, his arm around Lewis’s waist.  
  
“Point your toes a little more, that’s it – keep your back straight against me-“ Nico commands, his eyes roving over Lewis’s form. “That’s it, that’s perfect-“  
  
“Can we take a break?” Lewis says as they come out of hold, he’s a little breathless from the changeovers. “I need a drink,”  
  
“Break?” Nico raises an eyebrow.  
  
“Yes, a break, one of those things that normal ice skaters take on a regular basis,” Lewis says, glancing at the blonde.  
  
“Oh? And what else do these normal ice skaters do then? Are they going to win a gold medal?” Nico teases. “Do they drop their partners?” He wraps his hand around Lewis’s and begins to tug him over to the exit of the rink.  
  
“Nico, stop it,” Lewis says, half laughing as Nico pulls him, picking up speed. However, Lewis feels his boot snag on the ice and he begins to topple. Panic seizes his chest as he tips forward, his eyes closing, bracing himself for the hard impact, for the shooting pain but it never comes. He lands on something soft. He opens his eyes in surprise.  
  
“Nico?” He says, glancing down at the blonde, sprawled across the ice. His chest cushioned Lewis’s fall. Nico ‘s cheeks are a little red and he’s out of breath slightly. Lewis realises he’s still lying on Nico’s chest.  
  
“I’m sorry-“  
  
“Don’t be, it’s okay. Hurt my back a little but I’ll live, you’re pretty light…” Nico says, his eyes never leave Lewis.

“Nico-“ Lewis begins but he’s silenced by Nico’s lips pressing against his own. They kiss for a moment – the ice is soaking into the back of Nico’s t-shirt but none of that matters when Lewis’s warm lips are brushing against his own. Lewis moans against his mouth, his hands fist into Nico’s t-shirt as his tongue swipes over Nico’s lips. Nico whines against Lewis’s skin, bringing the Brit back to reality. His eyes widen as he takes in Nico underneath him, his eyes closed, his lips red and swollen.  
  
He finds the panic flood his chest as he rips himself away, trying to get to his feet. “I have to go,” Lewis says, more to himself, as he manages to skate to the edge of the rink. He hears Nico calling out his name but he chooses to ignore it, like the warmth spreading over his chest and the tingling sensation on his lips.

* * *

  
“So what happened between you and Lewis?” Vivian asks him after a few days.  He hasn’t been to the ice rink since then and he can feel the days melting away – every hour counts, but there’s no point in practising without his partner.  “And don’t lie to me, I know when you’re lying to me,”  
  
“Nothing happened, Vinnie,”  
  
“I can read you like a book, you know that right?” Vivian says, glancing up at her twin brother. “Something happened between you and Lewis because there’s no chance in hell you would miss a day’s practise, let alone three,”  
  
“Nothing happened, just leave it,” Nico says, fiddling with his phone. He lingers on Lewis’s phone number and debates calling him.  
  
“Something happened with you and Lewis, didn’t it?” Vivian says, smiling.  
  
Nico feels his cheeks turn bright red and betray him. “Maybe,”  
  
“Something happened, tell me everything now,” Vivian presses.  
  
“We kissed, he fell on top of me and we ended up kissing and-“ Nico can feel the blush burning his neck as Vivian’s dark eyes settle on him.  
  
“So, isn’t that a good thing? You’ve pined over him for years, Nico,” Vivian says, smiling.  
  
“It wasn’t for years, Vinnie. And it doesn’t matter anyway, nothing else is going to happen,” Nico says adamantly.  
  
Vivian doesn’t look convinced. Nico texts Lewis later that day, he gets a quick response simply agreeing to come to the ice rink tomorrow morning.

* * *

  
Nico is already on the ice, trying out a few axel turns when Lewis shows up. Nico feels his chest twist slightly as he watches the Brit sit down in the stands and begin to strap on his skates.  
  
“You came,” Nico says after a moment.  
  
“Yeah, well, we have a job to do and we need to get this routine nailed. There’s only three months to go,” Lewis doesn’t glance up at Nico, he focuses on tying his skates up.  
  
“Are we okay?” Nico asks, biting his lip.  
  
“Yeah, why wouldn’t we be?” Lewis still doesn’t look at Nico.

“Because you’re really quiet-“  
  
“Look,” Lewis’s eyes finally look with Nico’s. “I’m here to do my job, not pacify you and make you feel better about yourself. It’s not a big deal, we kissed. People do that all the time, I mean, you and Vivian probably did it…but in a non-creepy brotherly and sisterly sort of way…I’ll stop talking,”  
  
“Look, it doesn’t have to be a big deal if you don’t want to make it one,” Nico says, holding up his hands.  
  
“Okay, let’s start from the top, shall we?” Lewis says, moving over to the ice. Nico follows, biting his lip at the coldness radiating from his partner. Lewis barely touches Nico, unless it’s necessary, and he doesn’t smile once, he just listens to the blonde’s instructions as he guides him across the ice.

* * *

  
Another month melts away, like the ice beneath their feet does. Lewis seems detached from Nico, he barely cracks a smile and stays longer than the blonde each night to perfect his technique. It shows when he’s performing in front of Nico – he’s more confident on the ice, he glides over it with ease. He points his toes without been asked and his shaping is better – he’s able to hold himself better when in hold, his hands no longer splay out and ruin the effect. Nico wonders who helped him improve as he watches the Brit glide over the ice – he’s picking up speed once more, ready to attempt a double axel turn. He plants his feet slightly onto his left leg as he lifts up his leg, twisting his entire body around, keeping his top line steady, his hands extended. He flicks his foot once before it lands onto the ice. He wobbles slightly – it’s to be expected, he’s not performed many turns without Nico’s arms around him. But he stays upright and his top line stays consistent.  
  
“Guess you’ve been practising without me,” Nico says cheerily.  
  
The smile on Lewis’s face dims slightly. “I guess,”  
  
“You’ve gotten good at that, you just panic a little on the landing,” Nico points out.  
  
“Well, still think that sometimes I might break my leg,” Lewis says, biting his lip as he tightens the laces on his skates. “You’re here early,”  
  
“Well, figured you’d want to see your outfit for the performance,” Nico says, smiling.  
  
“It better not be a skirt,” Lewis replies, glare fixed on Nico. “I don’t care if I’m the one in the holds, I’m not wearing a skirt,”  
  
“It’s not a skirt, don’t worry,” Nico says. “It’s in that box by my bag in the stands,”  
  
Lewis moves over to the box and lifts the lid. He holds up a pressed white shirt with a quizzical eye. “A white shirt and trousers?”  
  
“I’ll be in black, I wanted us to embody the concept of good and evil in our performance, that one cannot function without the other. I didn’t want fancy sequins and glitter all over us, I wanted raw emotions, stripped down, to the basics,” Nico says.  
  
“Right,” Lewis replies, his eyes still locked on the clothes.

* * *

  
It’s a month until the Olympics and Nico and Lewis are working around the clock to perfect their routine.  They move in sync with each other as they work through their routine, Lewis now confident enough to point out when Nico’s toes aren’t pointed enough or he’s losing his shape slightly. Nico grins widely as his fingers tangle with Lewis’s, they skate in sync – Lewis stretches out one of his arms out slightly, as Nico and he glide across the ice together. Lewis twists slightly so that he is skating backwards, Nico still grasping back of his hands as though they are locked in the duel.  
  
“Left leg, keep it pointed,” Nico instructs.  
  
Lewis straightens his leg out slightly, his skate ghosting over the ice. “You’re like the Gordon Ramsey of ice skating,”  
  
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Nico grins as he twists Lewis back around and lifts him up onto his shoulders. Lewis bends himself into position, twisting his arms up, pointing his toes as much as he can. He holds his posture for as long as he can – before Nico neatly brings him back down to the floor, his skates connect with the ice and he doesn’t wobble. He feels the smile brush past his concentration as Nico grasps his hand.  
  
“That was amazing,” Nico pants, glancing at Lewis. “You’ve really improved coming out of that lift,”  
  
Lewis smiles back. “I know,” They skate over to the exit of the rink and sit down on the seats. Nico begins pulling off his skates.  
  
“Do you think we’ll actually do it?” Lewis says quietly, he hasn’t moved to take off his skates.  
  
“Do what?” Nico asks, tugging off his left skate.  
  
“Win the gold medal. I mean, you’ve been training for this your whole life right? Do you think it’s going to happen?”  
  
“I think if we perform the routine like we did just then, we’ll have no problems,” Nico says.  
  
“I hope you’re right,” Lewis says, biting his lip. “I got you something by the way,”  
  
Nico raises an eyebrow as Lewis pulls out a big box from his gym box. “I remembered about your outfit been all black and I thought…you couldn’t wear your skates you have now so-“  
  
Nico unwraps the box and gasps loudly. Sitting in the box are a pair of brand new skates in matte black – his name is written in swirling silver and teal along the side and there’s teal piping around the edges.  
  
“They’re beautiful. Thank you,” Nico whispers. He grabs Lewis and hugs them tightly, holding onto the Brit for longer than he should, his fingers linger over Lewis’s afterward.

* * *

  
They’re invited to the opening ceremony, they both stand in the arena in their matching tracksuits. Nico feels Lewis’s hand curl around his own, he squeezes it tightly and bites his lip. Nico squeezes back as though to reassure Lewis that everything will be okay.  
  
“You okay?” Nico asks, his voice barely audible over the loud music.  
  
“I can’t believe I’m here. I feel sick,” Lewis says quietly.  
  
“Please don’t throw up on me,” Nico says, trying to lighten the atmosphere. “Not before the party has started,"

* * *

  
It’s the day before they perform their routine to the crowds of Rio. Lewis sits in the changing room and reties his skates for the seventeenth time; it’s eerily quiet, quieter than it will be tomorrow. Lewis lets his eyes fall on his skates – they’re the bright white ones he’s always used, the small black 44 seems to glower at him. He sends a little prayer – he always prays before he goes on the ice – and takes a deep breath, pulling himself to his feet.  
  
“You alright?” Nico’s voice cuts through the silence. Lewis glances at his partner; Nico looks good – the black shirt has sequins on it which gently shine under the lights. He’s wearing his new skates – they’ve been broken in a little – but they match his outfit perfectly.   
  
“I feel like I’m going to be sick again but-“  
  
“Please don’t. My parents and Vivian would never let me live this down if you threw up on my outfit before they’ve taken photos,” Nico says with a small smile.  
  
“Your parents are here? As in Keke and Sina? They’re _here_?” Lewis says quietly.  
  
“Of course they’re here, Lew. We’re at the Olympics, why would they miss this?” Nico says, raising his eyebrow.  
  
“Oh god, what if I mess up though, what if-“ Lewis is silenced by Nico’s hand on his shoulder.  
  
“Listen, you’re going to do great. Just trust me, trust the ice and most of all, trust yourself,” Nico says softly.  
  
“Nico-“  
  
“You’re going to be great,” Nico smiles as he moves his hand. Lewis gives him a weak smile back, ignoring the warmth radiating from where Nico’s hand had been.  
  
They step out onto the ice and go through their routine tirelessly. They both execute their lifts with ease, transitioning into their next steps with ease. However, Nico tries to do a quadruple axel turn, something that has only been executed a handful of times, he manages three twists before his skate gets caught and he misjudges his landing.  He feels the pain radiate through his ankle as he falls to the floor.  
  
“Nico!” Lewis yells, immediately skating over to the blonde and falling onto his knees by his side.  
  
Nico hisses in pain. He feels somebody’s warm hand ghost over his own and glances up into worried brown eyes. “You’ve hurt yourself,”  
  
“It’s only a sprain, I’ll be fine,” Nico says, he can feel the water melting into the back of his shirt. Lewis grabs hold of his leg and gently elevates it up onto his own knee. Nico hisses in pain.  
  
“What if you can’t…Nico, you idiot,” Lewis says, there’s tears in the corners of his eyes.  
  
“I’m sorry, it’ll be okay, Lewis. I promise it’ll be okay,” Nico says as he feels Lewis’s warm fingers dance over his face and through his hair.  
  
Nico bites his lip and tries to ignore the pain. He hopes that it’s not too badly damaged. He hears Vivian’s worried voice, her hands warm against his.  
  
“God, you idiot, attempting that, what were you thinking?” Vivian’s voice filters in before everything fades to black, the last thing Nico sees is worried brown eyes.

* * *

  
Nico ignores the pain radiating from his ankle – they’d given him an x-ray last night and thankfully, it wasn’t broken but was just a mild sprain. He grits his teeth as he binds it heavily with support bandages, he’s hoping that his skates will offer a little more support. He’s just easing his left foot into the skate, ignoring the pain shooting up his foot when the door opens. 

  
“You’re stupid, you know that?” Vivian hisses, her face red with anger.  
  
“It’s just a little sprain,” Nico insists as his boot finally slides into place. He flexes it slightly, pain shoots through his foot, but his skate seems to offer support. He grabs his pack of pain medication and pops two into his mouth, following them down with a gulp of water. “I’ll be fine,”  
  
“What if your ankle buckles whilst you’re on the ice? I don’t understand how you can be so careless-“  
  
“This is my one shot, Vinnie. I have to take it,” Nico says softly.  
  
“But what if you ruin your ankle even more?” Vivian replies, biting her lip. “I’m worried-“  
  
“It’s okay, Vinnie. I’m going to be fine,” Nico says, strapping up his knee for good measure. He roll down his trousers and glances at himself in the mirror.  Vivian glances at him, a tear rolls down her cheek as she surveys him. He pulls her into a hug, her perfume curling over his nose.  
  
“I’m so proud of you,” She whispers against him.  
  
Nico nods.  “I’m sorry you’re not beside me,”

* * *

  
Lewis sits in the changing room, shaking his foot up and down, the roar of the crowd washing over him. He holds his skates in his hands, twisting them around in a repetitive motion.  
  
“Lew?” A familiar voice, one that has been barking instructions at him for the last few months, breaks through the roar. Nico stands before him, already dressed and looking immaculate. Lewis feels his breath leave his body at the sight of Nico in his black ensemble, the sequins gently glinting in the light, his blonde hair swept back from his face. “Aren’t you going to get your skates on?” He moves forward, a wave of pain spreads across his face as he moves his ankle.  
  
“I don’t think we should do this, you’re hurt,”  
  
“I’ve taken pain medication and my ankle is all strapped up. Lew, please, you know what this means to me,” Nico says, dropping down to sit next to Lewis.  
  
“It’s all you ever wanted,” Lewis says quietly as his hand folds over Nico’s. “But you’ll have another shot to do this, with Vivian,”  
  
“I have a shot to do this now, Lewis, with you…I want to do this with you. I don’t care if it hurts, I know we’re the best, I know we can win this today,”  
  
Lewis doesn’t say anything. He squeezes Nico’s fingers. “Guess I’ll put my skates on then. If it gets too much, just tell me okay?”  
  
Nico nods, watching Lewis put on his skates.

* * *

  
The crowd roar as Nico and Lewis make their way onto the ice. Lewis tries to look through the audience for Nico’s parents, for Vivian, for his own family, but every face seems to blur through the harsh lights and the gleam of the ice. The silence sweeps over the audience as the music stops, Lewis swears the only thing he can hear is his and Nico’s breathing as they immediately drop into their routine with ease, skating over the ice with ease.  
  
Lewis lets the music wash over him, bending into the necessary shapes, bending his toes outwards and creating the necessary shapes as they link hands and pick up speed, Lewis twisting ever so slightly, their eyes locked together as Lewis’s leg drifts up behind him, Nico’s mirroring him. They twirl around in a circle before coming back together, Nico’s arm curling around Lewis’s waist as he dips him low, Lewis’s warm hand brushing over Nico’s face for a moment. He pulls out of hold as they progress into the next section, mirroring each other’s moves, Lewis smiling as his blade hits the ice with the music.  
  
Nico takes his hand once more and glides him over the ice, the two of them falling into sync with one another, their skates side by side as they seem to glide over the ice. Nico’s hands move around his waist and Lewis feels himself be lifted into the air – the crowd cheers wildly – as he holds his pose, his arms twisted elegantly, moving in time with the music.  He feels his skate drop back down to the ice swiftly and comes out of the hold easily.  
  
“Are you okay,” He whispers to Nico who nods in return, twisting him around as they continue to skate over the ice, Lewis twists around in Nico’s arms, holding out his leg. Nico skates around him, his leg mirroring Lewis’s as they move around the ice, the crowd is silent as they move to skate backwards still in time with one another. Nico’s hands move to clasp at Lewis’s face for a moment as they skate around for a moment before they move down to his arms, twisting around them and pulling Lewis into a spin. Lewis keeps his legs straight and his toes pointed, creating a long, clean line as Nico informed him in practise. Nico pulls Lewis around for a moment, spinning them in a fluid motion before he slowly returns his partner to the ice, spinning them both around into hold.  Lewis falls back against Nico’s chest as they skate backwards – the crowd once again cheer – as Lewis moves forward, their pace accelerating.  
  
They glide back over the ice, their feet perfectly in sync as they move back towards the middle – Lewis moves away from Nico as they both perform a triple axel turn independently before joining back in the middle – Lewis doesn’t see Nico perform his as they are both in sync with one another but judging by the silence, Nico seems to have executed it perfectly, though his features are full of pain when he rejoins Lewis at the centre, taking his arms as they glide around again, before Nico lifts Lewis into another hold, Lewis stretches out his legs as Nico spins him around – all he can see is the camera flashes and the watchful eyes of the blurry audience. Nico swings him out of hold as they spin again, their legs mirroring each other as they pick up the pace for the final time, twisting and turning over the ice, every move the same as the others. Nico finally grabs Lewis and presses him into one last hold before he twists him down onto the floor. Lewis lands on the ice, his arm outstretched, Nico on one knee before him as the music stops and the audience rouse themselves into a standing ovation.  
  
Lewis grins widely at Nico. “We did it,” He pants heavily, ignoring the sweat pouring down from his forehead.  
  
Nico nods once, his teeth are gritted and he’s clearly in pain as Lewis pulls him to his feet. The pair of them bow to the audience before Lewis tugs Nico over to the side for them to await their scores. Nico is leaning heavily on Lewis which makes the Brit worry his lip slightly. Nico’s arms is slung over his shoulder and he’s sweating profusely but there’s a small smile on his face.  
  
“You did good out there,” Nico whispers against Lewis’s hair.  
  
“I couldn’t have done it without you,” Lewis whispers back.  
  
They turn to the screens, Lewis’s hand finds Nico’s and they both squeeze each other’s fingers.  Nine 6.0s light up the screen. Nico’s mouth falls open as Lewis hugs him tightly, tears running down his face.  
  
“Oh my god,” Lewis whispers, his arm around Nico, pressing his nose against Nico’s hair. “That’s...that’s a perfect score,”  
  
“That’s a Rosberg score,” Nico says, slightly numb. He presses a light kiss to Lewis’s cheek. “Thank you, thank you so much,”  
  
“For what?” Lewis asks, glancing into green eyes.  
  
“That’s the gold medal winning score, Lew. Nobody is going to beat that, I can’t believe it, we did it,” He whispers.  
  
Lewis grins widely as he blows a kiss to the baying crowd, leading Nico away. He can feel the blonde leaning more and more on him, he worries his lip, glancing at the pain shooting across Nico’s features.  
  
“I’m so proud of you,” Nico whispers as they enter the tunnel, his arm still wrapped around Lewis.  
  
“Me? You’re the one who made all this happen,” Lewis replies as he presses a kiss to Nico’s lips. The kiss only lasts for a second – warm lips against warm lips – Lewis rips himself away and immediately begins apologising.  
  
“Don’t apologise,” Nico says as he pulls Lewis in for another kiss.  
  


* * *

  
They almost miss the medal awarding ceremony – _almost_. Nico glances at the audience, spots his parents and Vivian in the crowd cheering loudly as the gold medal is slid over his neck. He kisses the metal and holds it up to the crowd, his fingers twining with Lewis’s as he lifts their arms up to the sky. The crowd continue to cheer.  
  
“How does it feel being a gold medallist?” Nico whispers into Lewis’s ear. “So, 2020 Olympics?”  
  
“Think Vivian might have something to say about that,” Lewis says.  
  
Nico laughs, his fingers tightening around Lewis’s. 

 


End file.
